What I've Done
by comicbooklovergreen
Summary: The third installment of my series that began with 'The Return' and continued with 'What I've Done.' A face from Elektra's past, enemies old and new, and the reprecussions of Matt's brainwashing. When it rains, it pours. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone out there in fanfic land. So after almost a year I've finally decided to finish off my Elektra series. I'm sure you all know by now that my updating patterns are…somewhat erratic, but I will try my hardest to finish this thing before the next presidential election. That said, enjoy and please forgive any grammatical errors, As I've said before, my editing team (meaning myself) isn't the greatest. Any ideas, criticisms, muffins, or bombs can reach me through reviews. On second thought, please hold off on the bombs, explosions make my dogs nervous.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, I have nothing, so please refrain from suing me. The title of this story comes from Linkin Park's song of the same name.

* * *

Elektra was doing a last minute check of her appearance when Abby came in. Rolling her eyes, the teen flopped down on her guardian's bed, sighing dramatically.

"Problem?" the older woman asked calmly, well used to Abby's theatrics.

"Matt's sending me to a convent."

The mascara she'd been reapplying smeared as Elektra nearly dropped the tube. Turning away from the mirror, she opened her mouth to respond, but was stopped by the sound of footsteps.

"She's exaggerating," Matt stated as he walked in a moment later.

"He wants me to become a nun,"

"Still exaggerating," the blind man replied while adjusting his tie.

"What's this about?" Elektra demanded as she began fixing her makeup.

"I didn't tell her to become a nun."

"No, you just told me to dress like one."

"Abby, be quiet," Elektra ordered. "I'm afraid to ask what she's talking about."

"She was snooping around in the compartment looking for your costume."

Frowning at Abby's reflection in the mirror, Elektra said, "What could you possibly want with that?"

"To borrow it."

"For what?"

"A costume party," the teen answered, as if the answer should've been obvious.

Mascara back in place, Elektra shot a withering glare at her young charge. "You actually thought we'd let you go out of the house like that?"

"No, otherwise I would've asked permission."

"And the convent?"

"I suggested that if she needed an outfit so badly, she could always go as a nun," Matt answered.

"He's trying to force religion on me."

"He's also the most fallen Catholic I've ever seen," Elektra retorted. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"So just so we're clear-"

"If I see you in anything red I'll send you to that convent myself," Elektra cut in.

"Thought so." Getting off the bed, Abby glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. "You're going to miss your reservations."

"We'll be fine," Matt told her.

"You'll be late," the girl corrected. "When's the last time you shaved?"

Surprised by the question, Matt ran a hand over his stubble-covered chin. "Why?"

"Because you're starting to look more like a homeless guy than a lawyer."

"I haven't had the time," he replied, in what he hoped was a normal tone.

Turning off the bathroom light, Elektra frowned as she caught sight of the bedspread, which was slightly wrinkled on the spot Abby had just vacated.

Following her line of vision, Abby smirked wickedly. "Oh, now you're _really_ going to be late."

"Go watch TV," Elektra ordered.

"You have to remake the bed now, don't you?"

"No," the former assassin lied.

"Knock it off," Matt said sternly. "Go wait for us in the living room."

"But I want to see how long it takes her to get the whole thing totally perfect again," Abby protested. "She spent an hour adjusting the throw pillows once."

Arms crossed, Matt gave her a very hard look.

"Right," Abby muttered. "Convent. Angry, lonely nuns. I'll go practice my Hail Mary's."

* * *

Smoothing out the wrinkles of his suit jacket, Matt donned a pair of sunglasses from atop the dresser. "Ready to go?"

Instead of answering, Elektra walked over to him, straightening his already-straight tie. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Shaking his head, Matt reached down to capture her hands. "I think I can handle one dinner date."

"I know."

"No, you don't, or you wouldn't be asking."

"I'm just saying that you don't have to-"

"I _want _to. I've been back to work, I can handle crowds again, the only thing I'm worried about is the bill," he joked.

"Just because you _can _handle this, doesn't mean you'll be comfortable doing it."

"Well," he replied in a much lower voice, "I guess you'll just have to make me more comfortable then." Releasing her fingers, Matt moved his hands down to her waist, leaning down for a long, thorough kiss. After a moment, he felt Elektra's hands tangling into his hair, pulling him closer.

"Reservations at 8:00!" Abby shouted from the other room.

Sighing, Matt broke the contact, offering his lover a crooked half-smile. "Reservations at 8:00," he repeated.

"You want to skip them?" Elektra asked, a playful smile on her lips.

"You can play tonsil hockey in the cab!" Abby yelled more loudly this time. "You're going to be late!"

"You know," Matt said dryly, "If she's really not interested in the nun thing, she'd have a great career as a timekeeper atsporting events."

* * *

"If anything happens, _anything_-"

Abby grabbed the piece of lined paper from her guardian's hand without waiting for Elektra to finish. "I know. Call your cell phone. If that doesn't work, call Matt's cell phone. If that doesn't work, call the restaurant. If that doesn't work, call all the numbers on this list until somebody answers." Examining the long list of emergency contact numbers, Abby shot Elektra questioning look. "You're the most anti-social person I've ever met, how do you even know this many people to call?"

Ignoring her, the older woman grabbed her handbag from the coffee table.

"Hey E, you forgot to put the Secret Service's number on here."

"You know where everything is?"

"3 knives under the floorboard by the window, stun gun in the kitchen drawer, gas pellets in the third candy jar on the left, gas masks under the sink next to the dish soap, the rest of its under your bed, right next to the back issues of Playgirl," Abby rambled off sarcastically.

"Abby, I'm serious about this. You need to be careful."

"Can I have some money?" the girl asked, unfazed by her guardian's serious tone.

"What for?" Matt asked as he returned from making sure the rooftop entrance was locked.

"In case I get hungry later."

"No deliveries," Elektra said firmly. "I don't want you answering the door for anyone."

"That's not fair. There's a new pizza place and-"

"There's plenty of food here. Just make sure you clean up when you're done," said Elektra.

"I'm not an infant; I know how to put stuff away."

"And don't fall asleep with the TV on again."

"Shouldn't you be gone already?" Abby said in irritation.

Matt gave her another hard look as he ushered his lover out the door.

"Right," the teen muttered as they were leaving. "What sounds better, Sister Abby, or Sister Abigail?"

* * *

"Relax," Matt spoke into her ear, hand on the small of her back.

Elektra was unable to heed his advice. She could feel eyes burning into them as they moved across the dance floor, and it made her absolutely furious. They'd always gotten these stares before, some people were simply not used to having a blind man in their midst. This was different though, because Elektra knew it wasn't just about the way Matt clutched her arm, or the stick and sunglasses.

"Is it that bad?" Matt asked her ruefully as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What?"

"The scars," he said casually. "Should I be in the market for a plastic surgeon?"

"No," Elektra replied tightly. While Matt's face had obviously taken damage during those months he'd been away, it wasn't as if he were deformed. And it certainly wasn't grounds for these idiots around them to keep looking at him like he was something out of a circus sideshow.

"Relax," Matt said again. "Don't let them get to you."

"It's rude," Elektra whispered angrily. "They have no right to do this."

"It's New York," he chuckled. "Rudeness is practically a prerequisite for living here."

"I still don't know how you put up with it."

"I put up with it," he replied, "because there's only one person in this room whose opinion I give a damn about. And considering that she's dancing with me right now, I think I'm doing okay."

"Very smooth. You rehearse that?"

"With Foggy, yes. Practiced during lunch."

Elektra laughed, resting her head against his shoulder, the tension finally gone from her body.

"Are you happy?" Matt blurted out a few seconds later.

Pulling back to look at him, Elektra removed the dark glasses to stare confusedly into blank eyes. "I'd think you'd be able to figure that out."

"I don't mean right now specifically, just…in general."

"What brought this on?"

"Curiosity," Matt said lightly. "Idle curiosity."

"Really?" Elektra asked suspiciously.

"Yes, really. Are you going to answer the question?"

The billionaire's daughter paused in consideration, knowing Matt would catch her in a lie. "I'd be happier if you shaved," she finally answered, brushing her fingers against the rough skin of his face.

Laughing softly, he kissed both her eyelids, then the bridge of her nose before reaching his final destination of her lips, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

The couple returned to a darkened apartment around midnight. Darkened except for the television that, surprise surprise, was still on. Abby was asleep on the couch, the remote control on the floor near her left hand. What got Elektra's attention though, were the empty containers of Chinese takeout on the table.

"Leave it," Matt said softly. "Yell at her in the morning."

"She knows Fisk is watching us, I tell her to be careful, she doesn't listen," Elektra fumed in an angry whisper.

"Nothing happened. Besides, I don't want to talk about Fisk tonight."

Shaking her head, Elektra turned off the TV and reached down to pick up the mess. Matt, however, had other plans. Stopping her hand in mid air, he led her closer to the hallway, away from the sleeping teenager. "Clean it tomorrow."

The ex assassin looked at him dubiously.

"Please clean it tomorrow?"

Her expression remained skeptical.

"If you have one ounce of mercy in your entire body, you'll come to bed with me right now."

Cringing one last time at the messy table, Elektra decided that showing a bit of mercy this time wouldn't damage her reputation too badly.

* * *

Slipping out of bed was harder than usual, as Matt's arm was draped possessively over her waist. Elektra managed it nonetheless, making her way quietly to the hidden room that held all of Daredevil's equipment, as well as the thing she'd come for.

The bright red costume hadn't been used in years. It lay in a far corner of the room, a constant reminder of her past.

Matt wanted her to get rid of it, though he'd never said as much.

Then again, everyone wanted things they couldn't have.

Elektra ran her fingers softly over the material, just as her mind ran over and over a simple question.

Was she happy?

As happy as she could be, she supposed. At least under these circumstances.

Certainly she loved Matt, loved both of them. The difference between having them and not having them was like night and day. She'd gotten both of them back more than once, and that should be enough.

But was it?

Gazing at this reminder of her old life, a life of blood and pain yes, but also of excitement and adrenaline and something more than playing house all day, Elektra came to the startling realization that she didn't know.

* * *

Elektra was next to him again when Matt woke an hour later. It was still dark, close to four in the morning, but Matt got up anyway, careful not to disturb his bedmate.

Entering the bathroom, he closed the door behind him, opened the second door from the top and took out his razor and shaving cream. He couldn't do this in the morning. Not in front of Elektra.

Placing the cream on the counter, he held the razor in his right hand, willing it to remain steady.

Do it. Do it now.

He brought the blade to his face, not bothering with the cream.

"_I know this hurts," that disgustingly smooth voice informed him, scraping the blade along his jaw._

It had hurt. But not only because of the knife. It was the noise. They'd kept him in a room with no sound for so long that the noise of the blade, the noise of his tormentor, the noise of his own breathing was torture. It was like being twelve years old again, trapped in that hospital with no control over his senses.

"_You must stop fighting. Stop fighting and it will all be over." Sharp pain. The bastard had cut him, blood oozing sluggishly from his chin._

Back in his apartment, Matt winced as the razor cut into his chin. Before, in that cold room, the smell of blood had overwhelmed him. When they left him alone, he couldn't smell anything but his own sweat.

"_What do you want from me?" He hadn't wanted to ask that, hadn't wanted to give them the satisfaction of talking, but he couldn't help it._

"_We only want you to accept the truth, Mr. Murdock."_

_Matt didn't ask what that truth was, keeping silent as the blood ran don his face._

Matt ignored the small drops of blood running down his chin, continuing to run the razor across his face. The blade shook in his hand.

"_Do you know what that truth is, Mr. Murdock?"_

_No, he didn't. He didn't want to._

"_You caused your father's death. And then you killed her father as well. That's why she left you, that's why she became a murderess herself. You're responsible for all of it." The knife cut him again, his throat this time. Not deep, but the smell of copper made him feel sick._

He cut himself again, near his throat. The blasted razor wouldn't keep still.

"_Say it, Mr. Murdock, admit it." The man's voice had a hypnotic quality to it, and Matt found himself wanting to obey. "Dad's death," he whispered haltingly. "My fault."_

"_Finish it." The knife still dancing across his throat._

Finish it. Finish it before Elektra comes in and sees you like this. Finish it now. The razor flitting against the skin near his windpipe.

"_Elektra. That was my fault too. Killed her father, took her over the edge."_

"_Good. Very good." Matt screamed as the knife crashed to the floor._

Dropping the razor into the sink, Matt gripped the counter with both hands. The blood's smell was making him dizzy. He should be better by now. He'd told Elektra that he was.

"_I think that's enough for tonight. We'll talk again tomorrow."_

Wiping his face, Matt forced himself to breathe normally. Tomorrow. He'd finish it tomorrow.

* * *

Wilson Fisk stood at the window to his penthouse apartment, looking over the city.

His city.

He should've been sleeping, but the excitement coursing though his veins wouldn't allow that. It was almost time for the plan to commence.

Turning his back to the view, Fisk settled down in front of the sixty inch plasma screen TV. Punching a few buttons on the remote, he brought up the security tape his people had acquired, the one he'd been viewing so obsessively as the months went by.

It showed an elaborately decorated library, with a silver haired, distinguished looking man reading in a high backed armchair. Fisk knew who the gentleman was, but his identity was unimportant.

It was the action in the tape that mattered.

The footage continued, revealing a man in dark clothes, face hidden by a mask. In two seconds, the intruder had walked into frame, slit the older man's throat, then disappeared again. There was a lag in the tape as it switched to a different security camera, this one in the hallway outside the library. The killer's body was rigid, his head shaking minutely from side to side.

Fisk paused the tape here, zooming in so he could get a good look at what happened next.

The magnified image continued once Fisk hit the 'play' button, documenting the moments to come. A tremor ran through the intruder's body, and Fisk wondered for the hudreth time if he'd suffered a mild seizure. Then the mask came off, the killer crushing it between his hands.

Fisk paused the footage again, smiling at the crystal clear image of Matt Murdock, fresh from commiting murder, with a cold, blank expression on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow, this has to be one of my quickest updates ever. Thanks to all those who reviewed and I hope you continue to do so. This one is dedicated to Ratdogtwo for being my most loyal reviewer/ego booster/idea bouncer-offer…you get the point. Happy early birthday, Ratdog!

* * *

Trapped in that place between sleep and wakefulness, Abby was vaguely aware of movement around her. The television clicked on, but the volume was low and she promptly fell back asleep. That lasted roughly thirty seconds until she was treated to the musical stylings of Mr. Rogers, asking viewers to be his neighbor at an ear-splitting decibel level. Startled, the most powerful weapon in the war between good and evil jerked, fell off the couch, and hit her head on the edge of the coffee table, causing several precariously placed food cartons to fall to the ground.

"What the hell?!?"

"Watch your mouth."

Disoriented, Abby looked across the room to see Elektra standing near the TV, smirking in a way that was quite infuriating.

"What's your problem?" the teen fumed, rubbing her aching forehead as she clumsily climbed out from between the couch and table. "What time is it?"

"7:00."

"You woke me up at 7:00 in the morning on a Saturday? What the hell!" She had to shout to be heard over the sweater-clad TV host, still singing about what a beautiful day it was.

"I thought you'd want to get a head start on this," Elektra said, indicating the pile of takeout bags and soda cans.

"Will you turn that crap off? I didn't like it when I was three and I don't like it now."

Brow arching, Elektra lowered the volume but didn't shut off the power. "Three huh? Was that when you were a toddler or are you still considered an infant at that age?"

Neck sore from sleeping on the couch, Abby rolled her head from side to side, only to find that the motion made her forehead hurt more. "If I have a concussion it's your fault."

Elektra went on as though she hadn't heard that last comment. "Speaking of infants, what was it you said about cleaning up after yourself?"

"I was going to," the teen grumbled, falling back against the couch cushions.

"But then you fell asleep instead?"

"So I left the TV on, big deal. That mean you have to torture me with public television for preschoolers?"

"Do you enjoy making me angry?"

"Oh yeah, you're a real blast when you're like this."

"I wouldn't have to be like this if you'd stop taking stupid chances."

"What chances? That I'd get food poisoning from the sweet and sour chicken?"

"I told you no deliveries. How hard is that? Why is it so difficult for you to do what I say?"

"It's not and I did," the girl protested, lying back down and pressing her face to a pillow. "You said no deliveries, there were no deliveries."

"You didn't," Elektra said in a dangerous tone. "Tell me you didn't leave this apartment last night."

Silence.

The ex mercenary slammed her palm against the TV, a rare loss of control. "Do you have any idea what could've happened?"

"Yeah, I could've been kidnapped by a couple of bad henchmen guys. Or approached to buy drugs, or possibly hit by a bus."

"Stop, just stop," the older woman demanded.

"You're overreacting."

"Don't tell me I'm overreacting. You don't know this man or what he's capable of."

"Where's Matt?" Abby grumbled.

"You're not getting any help from him, so don't go looking for sympathy."

"Doesn't answer my question."

"He went out to breakfast with Foggy."

"How come you didn't go?"

"Because he left before I got up."

"That's weird."

"No, it's not. Stop trying to smother yourself and clean this up.," Elektra ordered, marching towards the kitchen.

"Hey," Abby called after her, "lighten up. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood."

The only response was the sound of the refrigerator door opening.

"Don't be mad, I saved you some chow mein!"

In answer, the fridge door slammed shut with much more force than necessary.

* * *

"God, what'd you do to yourself?"

"Nothing, it was a dull razor."

"Matt, your face-"

"-has a few nicks, that's all."

"What'd Elektra say when she saw that?"

"She didn't, I left a note and took off before she woke up."

The two men sat at their usual table in Joe's Shop, the morning customers in search of coffee and bagels just starting to trickle in. "What'd you shave in the dark?"

Matt leaned back in his chair.

"Right. Sorry. Forgot I guess. You sure you haven't been-"

"No, but considering how fast the tabloids get wind of things you'll be one of the first to know when I do."

"Right, yeah. Not that you have to-"

"Foggy, it's Saturday morning, I'm tired, what's so important that it couldn't wait 'til Monday?"

"Right. Yeah," the man stuttered nervously. "You uh, you're going to hate me for this."

* * *

"What happened to your face?" Abby wondered the moment Matt walked in the door.

He shrugged wearily.

"What did you do?" This from Elektra, who came in through the hallway a second later.

"Dull razor," the blind man replied flatly.

Tilting her head, Elektra scrutinized him for a long moment. "Abby, can you give us a sec?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Figured.," the teen muttered, getting up and heading for her room.

"That was easier than usual," Matt commented.

"She's sulking so she's trying to avoid me. What's the matter?"

Sighing, Matt threw his glasses on the table and sat on the arm of the couch. "We're broke. At least the office is. And not in the usual way, this time we can't even afford basic operating expenses."

"Foggy told you this?"

The blind man nodded miserably. "Things have been deteriorating for months."

"He never said anything."

"Because he didn't want you to worry about it, not with everything else that was going on." 'Everything else' meaning Matt's supposed death and all that followed, including his difficult transition back to semi-normality.

"Ah," Elektra said more sharply than she'd intended. "More secrets."

And there it was, the proof that she was still hurt by Matt's attempt to hide from her after his release from The Hand's captivity. Grimacing, Matt decided that that was a battle for another day."He was trying to be a good friend, Elektra."

Sighing, Elektra sat next to him on the couch, running her fingers along his right arm. "I know."

"Anyway he's tearing himself up enough already, thinks that he wasn't a good enough attorney to handle the place on his own."

"But you don't think that."

"Foggy underestimates himself. More than that, what he says doesn't fit with it being his fault."

"Meaning?"

"Foggy didn't get overwhelmed and start losing cases left and right while I was gone, he had no cases to lose. We stopped getting calls altogether. He's been covering costs out of his own pocket without telling me."

Elektra wasn't surprised that Matt had known nothing of how badly his law firm was failing. His work schedule had been erratic while he slowly got back into the swing of things, and she could understand, if not appreciate, Foggy's attempts to keep these problems to himself. "Fisk?"

"He has the power. You know he'd love to watch me lose everything I've worked for."

"He'd love to watch you lose more than that," Elektra replied darkly, squeezing his hand as she did. "What're you going to do?"

"I don't know, I wish I did."

"Well you know that if worse comes to worst…"

"No," Matt said fatly.

"Matt, be reasonable about this."

"We're not using that money," he muttered fiercely, pulling his hand away.

"Even if not using it costs you your livelihood?" Elektra shot back.

"I'm not using blood money to keep my practice going."

"How is it that you can forgive me for things that had nothing to do with you-"

"Forgiving it doesn't mean I want to flaunt money around that you got from-"

"Flaunting? What do you think is going to happen if the place does go under?"

"It won't come to that."

"How do you know?"

Without answering, Matt stood up and walked away. "Forget it. I need to work out."

That was a low blow. Not only was he taking the coward's way out, he'd also claimed the training room, knowing full well that she used the space to work off frustration. Granted Matt used the room for the exact same purpose, but the chivalrous thing would've been to give her the weight machine and punching bag while he went out to brood on the roof. Annoyed, Elektra headed for the kitchen to find something that needed to be chopped. The fact that she now needed an excuse to wield a knife was a perfect example of how much her life had changed.

* * *

It was nearly two hours later when Abby came out from her room to find Elektra twirling a pair of sai at speeds that shouldn't have been possible. "Having fun?" the girl asked.

"Repetition is-"

"-the way to perfection, I know. " Abby said, finishing the quote from one of Elektra's many sensei. "That must be why Matt's up to a thousand chin-ups. I think his arms might fall off."

Elektra didn't reply.

"Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine," the older woman said carefully, though that wasn't completely true. By silent agreement there were things between the couple that simply weren't discussed. It was better that way, kept conflict to a minimum, and allowed them to avoid certain wounds being reopened.

Most of the time at least.

In the kitchen, Abby carefully removed piece of paper from her jeans pocket, hoping to throw it out without her guardian noticing.

Sensing something, Elektra put down the weapons and was across the living area in seconds, grabbing the item before her charge had time to react. "What's this?" she demanded.

"Nothing, its garbage."

"Is this another detention notice?"

"No."

"Did you get in a fight?"

"No."

A pause. "You haven't been expelled have you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"You know, if you keep thinking the worst of me I'll probably end up another statistic in a juvenile detention center."

Not amused, Elektra skimmed over the document, breathing a sigh of relief as she did. The letter was a permission slip for a field trip to Washington, DC at the end of the year, nothing there about throwing Abby out of the school system. "Why were you trying to hide this?"

"I wasn't, I just knew you wouldn't go for it."

There was a hint of resigned sadness in the explanation. Abby wasn't pouting or being dramatic, she was trying to do the opposite. Shamed by her earlier line of questioning, Elektra made a clumsy attempt at smoothing things over. "I'm sorry."

"Its fine, I get it." Pushing past the older woman, Abby went around the counter, claiming one of the stools in front of it.

"Don't give me that look."

"I'm not," the girl replied peevishly.

"I know you want to go with your friends' but-"

"I get it," Abby repeated. "If I can't leave for Chinese food you're not going to let me go out of state for two weeks."

"Abby, when things are safer-"

"When will that be?" Abby interrupted, no longer trying to hide her frustration. "When Fisk is gone? What about The Hand? Do we have to take them down, too, or can we just wait until they find another weapon to chase? What about everyone else who might want to kill you? Or Matt? I know I'm being immature and selfish and whatever else, but when is it supposed to be over? Because every time you say that it is, something else seems to pop up."

Predictably, Elektra had no good answer to any of those questions. She wanted to believe that they could give Abby something resembling a normal life, but that hadn't worked out too well so far. The girl had trouble keeping friends because she was constantly being pulled from school to hide from some new threat. She made excuses for not attending parties or sleepovers, leaving her peers thinking that she was either antisocial or something worse. Her guardian knew all of these things, though Abby rarely complained about them.

"Don't throw it out yet." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Abby looked at her quickly, a glint of hope in her eyes. "You serious?"

"The trip's not for awhile, the situation might be different by then."

Grinning, Abby slid off the stool and, in a rare show of affection, hugged the older woman. "You rule. You're awesome, you're amazing."

"I haven't said 'yes,' yet" Elektra protested, not returning the embrace.

"But you haven't said 'no,' either, meaning that you're awesome."

"Don't count on this. If something does go wrong between now and then..." She didn't get to finish. Releasing the death grip on her waist, Abby was already bolting for the hallway. A moment later, she began telling Matt everything he'd no doubt heard already.

Sighing, Elektra mentally kicked herself, both for getting the girl's hopes up about something that may or may not be possible, and for not forcing Abby to write out her little speech filled with adjectives. It wasn't often the teen referred to her as 'awesome' or 'amazing,' and it would've been nice to preserve the moment.

* * *

"Mr. Phillips."

"Sir?"

"Find some evidence for me." Find meaning create.

"Evidence of what, sir?"

"A lawyer, bribing one of his witnesses. Perjury is a federal crime you know."

"Indeed it is, sir."

"And the other matter?"

"Still no Daredevil sightings, Mr. Fisk."

"Good. Place a call to Jordan on my legal team."

"Sir?"

"Find out all the possible consequences of adopting a child illegally."

"Circumstances?"

"Kidnapping, forged adoption papers, tell him he'll get the specifics later. Make sure he knows the father's murder case is unsolved."

"Yes sir, Mr. Fisk."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Woohoo, 2 updates in less than a week. To my fellow Americans, I hope you all had a great Independence Day free of any firework mishaps. This chapter references events from chapter 12 of 'Love Me When I'm Gone,' which I don't blame anyone for not remembering. The flashback used here was originally supposed to take place in that story but I got lazy.

"Keep your head down and your eyes up" is not my line. I stole it from an episode of Terminator: The Sarah Connor chronicles. I can't recall which episode it was used in, however I do acknowledge that I did not in fact write it.

Finally, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far. Read, enjoy, and please leave some feedback on your way out.

* * *

Elektra scowled at the picture of a smiling, kind-eyed Wilson Fisk, barely containing the urge to snatch the newspaper off the rack and rip it into tiny, tiny pieces. This man receiving so much praise for helping schools and feeding the homeless was also an evil, sadistic crime boss, yet he was pulling wool over the eyes of half the population of New York.

Disgusted, the former assassin placed her few grocery items in front of the cashier. Swiping her debit card, Elektra was further annoyed when the gangly boy behind the counter gave her an apologetic frown. "Sorry, this card's been rejected. You want to try another?"

Cursing the store's faulty computer system, Elektra pulled another card from her wallet, swiping it quickly through the machine.

"Sorry," the teen repeated. "Still no good."

Glancing back at the display of newspapers, Elektra grit her teeth, green eyes flashing.

* * *

"Everything's frozen."

Having just walked in the door, this wasn't quite the greeting Matt was expecting. "What?"

"The bank account is blocked until the IRS finishes the audit they never told us about. I stopped at the store today and every one of my cards was rejected."

"Shit," the blind man muttered.

"I've been on the phone all day; my other accounts have been cleaned out."

"All your other accounts?" Matt's eyes widened behind the sunglasses. "The ones you had thousands of dollars-"

"—worth of 'blood money' in? Yeah, they're all empty. And it was more like hundreds of thousands"

Elektra couldn't help the acid her words were tinged with. The argument from three days ago had never really been resolved and their financial problems had just gotten much, much worse. Somehow, Fisk had tracked down every bank, every alias she'd ever used and stolen the impressively-large fortune she'd left untouched for years.

The law office was treading water and the safety net Matt had been so reluctant to use was now gone.

Elektra saw Fisk smirking evilly in her mind's eye and wondered why she'd let things get this far, why she'd squandered her one chance to end it all. She remembered the party, the one she'd come out of hiding to attend. She'd gone there thinking Fisk responsible for Matt's death.

She'd gone there to kill him.

And then he'd made it more complicated by informing her that he wasn't the one that had Matt killed.

And she believed him.

Then she went after him anyway.

_Back turned, Fisk didn't have time to stop Elektra from grabbing his wrist, twisting it until she heard bone crack. The scream he let out was satisfying, but not enough. If he weren't so damn tall Elektra could've gone for the cluster of nerves in his neck as she had so many other times. Reaching him would take too much time though, leaving her open for attack. Therefore, she slammed her two inch heel directly into his right kneecap and watched him drop._

_On one knee, he made a grab for her, his hulking arms more than capable of squeezing the life from her body. Sidestepping, Elektra kicked him square in the face, watching the blood run down Fisk's newly broken nose. _

"_Déjà vu all over again," the bald man said quietly. Elektra was stunned and enraged to see that he was laughing, even as blood stained his tuxedo. _

"_I wonder how Murdock would feel…knowing that his woman finished what he couldn't."_

_She kicked him again, dislodging a few teeth in the process._

_Spitting blood, Fisk continued to laugh. "He tell you how he beat me? Yeah, I bet he did. 'Cept he probably left out the part about him being such a coward. He could've killed me, paid me back for what I did to both of you but he didn't. He didn't have the stomach for it, to murder me like he should have. But you, you're different aren't you? You'd kill me right now with 200 people in the next room…if it wasn't for him. But you won't do it because he wouldn't want that. You're just as weak as he is, just in a different way."_

_The sound of running feet. Pounding. "Mr. Fisk? Sir we heard a commotion, sir. Are you all right?"_

_The injured man smirked up at her, addressing his security team through the locked door."Everything's fine boys." Softly, to Elektra. "Isn't it?"_

_Feeling like she was being torn open from the inside, the brunette stooped to his eye level. Left hand holding his broken wrist, Elektra didn't give him enough time to make another grab at her. "You listen to me you subhuman bastard: you ever come near me or anyone I love again and I swear I will come back here and cut your head off whether or not it fits with Matt's moral code. Remember that"_

_Turning on her heel, Elektra marched out of the room. Two security men were waiting outside, as was Maya, the toned, dark haired beauty who'd been so reluctant to leave Fisk alone with her. Appalled gasps followed as the three of them saw what Elektra had done. She heard one of the men start to go after her._

_But the Kingpin ordered them to stay put. He murmured soft reassurances to his young date then, with much more authority, told his security personnel that he was fine. The last thing she heard before reentering the busy reception hall was Fisk's rumbling chuckle. _

_He considered it a joke. He considered _her _a joke._

_Less than a minute after the fact, Elektra already regretted letting him live._

"You did the right thing."

Matt's statement brought her back to the here and now. Taking a moment to process what he'd said, Elektra frowned in confusion.

"Foggy told me about what you did. Or didn't do. He said the _Times _had a blurb about Fisk disappearing from his own party, along with pictures of him from a few days later. Foggy said you really worked him over."

"I thought he'd murdered you," Elektra replied. "What would you have done?"

"I just told you that you were right."

"Right not to kill him you mean."

Matt looked at her helplessly.

"Well if I'd done what I came there to do, none of this would be happening.'

She expected him to argue, to go another round in their endless debate over killing or not killing, but that didn't happen. Hanging his head, Matt ran a hand along his scalp and kept quiet. It took a few seconds for Elektra to realize why he was doing this. The lawyer still felt an enormous amount of guilt over the nameless people he'd killed for The Hand. He wasn't fighting her on this because he didn't feel he had the right to. Yes he'd killed as Daredevil years ago, but that was before he made himself stop, before he promised never to do it again. It was another lifetime, unlike the murders he'd committed while brainwashed, which were all-too recent.

That, Elektra thought, was the good side of not having a conscience, or at least not much of one. Though she felt some guilt for the things she'd done and the lives she'd taken, hers wasn't the heavy, all-consuming Catholic guilt that Matt bore every day. She wasn't heartless, but she didn't let emotions weaken her the way he did.

She knew his guilty look quite well, knew when he was struggling with a conscience too strong for his own good. He was wearing it right now, but Elektra didn't have time to soothe him, to ease his burden. Serious things were happening here and she couldn't sit and play therapist.

Luckily she wouldn't have to, because right then she saw Matt's face transform. There was no guilt, there was only determination in its rawest form.

Elektra remembered in that moment one of the reasons she fell in love with him, why, despite their differences, she was still in love with him after so long.

In that moment, Elektra realized that he would do anything and everything to stop Wilson Fisk, The Hand, and anyone else who might threaten them.

That too was why they remained together.

Because both of them would do whatever it took to stay that way

* * *

The bullet tore through her ankle, stopping her mid-sprint. So much gunfire, she couldn't remember the last time there'd been this many bullets. She was in the open parking lot of a motel as round after round pierced the air around her.

"ELEKTRA!"

Abby. Abby was still a few steps behind. She always told the kid to stick close, yet she was always a few steps behind.

"GO!" Elektra shouted as she felt arms slip around her waist. "Move! Now!"

But no, Abby was being stubborn, always so damn stubborn as she placed an arm over the older woman's shoulder. Elektra was about to tell her again that there was no time for this. Bullets were flying everywhere and Abby couldn't afford to be hauling an injured party through the crossfire.

But Elektra never said any of that. Suddenly, Abby's arm was gone from around her. Staggering, Elektra watched horrorstruck as the teen fell, a small hole in her stomach where the high caliber round had pierced her.

Elektra!"

Matt's superhuman reflexes were the only thing that stopped him from getting a black eye when she shot out of bed, arms thrashing. Crushing her against his body, Matt grimaced as her nails dug through the material of his shirt and into his flesh.

"It's okay," he told her, struggling to maintain his hold. "E, stop. Stop, everything's okay."

"Where's Abby?" Elektra demanded the minute she recognized her surroundings.

"She's fine, Elektra."

"Where is she, Matt?"

"In her room. I can hear her right now and she's perfectly okay. You were just having a nightmare."

Pushing away from him, Elektra stood up and headed for the bathroom, examining her pale reflection in the mirror. "No," she refuted. "I wasn't."

Following her, Matt placed careful hands on shaking shoulders."What did you see?" he prodded gently, noting that she was more shaken up than he could remember her being in a very, very long time.

Splashing cool water across her face with one hand, Elektra held the other one up. Matt backed off recognizing her nonverbal cue for time, space. "I'll be right back," she told him after a good thirty seconds of silence.

"Wait," he told her softly, snagging her arm as she made to leave. "Give it a few minutes."

"I can't."

"Give it a few minutes," he repeated. "You'll scare her."

She gave it a minute and a half. Knocking softly, Elektra didn't wait to be invited into the girl's room.

Despite the fact that it was close to midnight, Abby was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, a book resting on her lap.

"Hey," she greeted, surprised. "What's up?'

Elektra sat down beside the teen and ran a gentle hand through the ends of her hair.

"What's going on?" Abby questioned, suddenly guarded and wary.

"Nothing," Elektra replied, wishing she'd listened to Matt and taken more time to compose herself. "Everything's fine."

"You don't look like everything's fine."

"What're you reading? The older woman asked, struggling to keep her voice from cracking.

The look Abby pinned her with was too much, too probing. "Did someone die?'

"No, Abby. I wanted to see you for a minute, that's all.'

"You wanted to see me for a minute? Why?'

Elektra tried not to feel the sting of that. Abby made it sound like they only spent time together when there was a crisis, like there had to be something wrong for her guardian to seek her out like this. "Forget it. Show me what you're reading."

Still guarded, Abby held the book up so that the front cover was visible, keeping one finger on the page she'd been looking at. "The Traveler."

"Any good?"

Shrugging, Abby flipped to the last few pages, skimmed them over, then lay the book upside down on the bed.

"You're cheating," Elektra observed lips quirking in amusement.

"I have to make sure there was a happy ending. Or at least one that wasn't totally dark and depressing."

"Doesn't that take the fun out of it?'

"No. I don't want to get all invested in a bunch of cool characters if they're just going to hate each other or die by the end of the book. Real life is real life, but books should always have happy endings."

Swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat, Elektra pulled the surprised teen into a hug, burying her face in Abby's shoulder.

Clearly put off by this turn of events, Abby patted the older woman's back awkwardly. "Um, you're sure everything's okay?'

"It's good. Everything's good."

"Okay…you're not drunk are you?"

Elektra let go of the relieved teenager, but kept a firm kept a loose grip on her hands. She needed to be sure, needed to know that Abby was still alive, still here. "What's the number one rule in this house?"

"You mean this apartment?"

Elektra knew what she was doing, knew that Abby couldn't stand serious talks, but that didn't matter. Squeezing her fingers lightly, Elektra fixed the girl with a solemn gaze "What's the rule, Abby?'

"Keep your head down and your eyes up," the teen responded. "Are you mad?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. But now we have a new rule."

"That's…nice?'

"You worry only about yourself."

"What?"

"No matter what, you worry only about yourself. That's it."

"So…the new rule is that you want me to be a selfish bitch?'

Elektra didn't stop to chide her for the swearing, refusing to break eye contact. "If something happens to me or Matt, if you're in a bad situation and either of us gets hurt, you don't stop. You get out of there. You run and you keep running and you don't think about looking back. That's the number one rule and I need you to follow it."

Fidgeting, Abby tried to pull her hands away. "E, what is this?"

The older woman tightened her grip. "Promise me, Abby."

"Elektra, nothing's going to happen to-"

"Don't. Just listen to me this one time."

"I am," the girl protested, looking anywhere but at her mentor.

Elektra wouldn't have it. Catching Abby's chin, the ex assassin forced the teen to make eye contact. "You promise me. No matter what you keep moving. Don't stop."

"E, we're not in a combat zone. Besides, I can't-"

"You can, if you have to. And I'm telling you right now that if that time comes you won't have a choice. You look at me and you promise me."

"Elektra…"

"Promise me. Now."

Frightened brown eyes met hard green. "Okay," Abby whispered. "I promise. Okay?"

Nodding, Elektra let go of the girl's chin. Abby was scared, but that couldn't be helped Sometimes fear was necessary.

Matt was waiting in the hallway when she emerged a few minutes later. Running his thumb along her cheekbone, he silently begged for an explanation. When that didn't work, he switched over to verbal. "What was that?"

Shaking her head, Elektra pushed past him and headed toward the training room.

She finally understood, fully understood, why Abby never told her about those Kimagure flashes, those images of Matt stabbing her. Like a dying person who knows there's something wrong but refuses to seek medical help, Abby hadn't wanted to believe what she was seeing.

Pretend it's not there, sweep it under the rug and it'll disappear. Elektra was never able to understand that mentality. She'd never been so afraid of something that she simply could not cope with it on any level.

Until now

* * *

"Do I have to go to school today?"

"Yes. Finish your breakfast."

Glancing dourly at the flat pancakes, runny eggs, and blackened toast, Abby pushed her plate away and stood up from the table. "That's okay, I'm stuffed.

"Suit yourself," Elektra replied, glaring until the teen scraped off her plate and put it in the dishwasher.

"But I'm sick."

"Of course you are."

"I feel like I might throw up." Not a total lie, though it did have more to do with the food she'd just choked down than any real illness.

"You can't afford to miss any days, not with all you missed last year."

"But it's Career Day. And according to you and everyone else, my career is to tip the balance in the ancient war between good and evil so why should I have to go?"

"Tipping the balance between good and evil only lasts 'til the next Treasure comes along and then it'll be time for a career change."

"Can you at least call and make them let me out early?"

"No," Elektra said firmly. Coming around the table, she kissed Abby on the temple. "Go to school."

Rubbing the spot on her forehead, Abby scrutinized the older woman. "Are you dying?"

"No."

"Because you've been acting really weird for two weeks."

"No one's dying; no one's going to die. You're going to be late though."

"Can you _please _just write me a note to leave early? I don't want to sit through seven hours of recruiting sessions for the Army or the Navy or the Air Force."

"Abby."

"Okay, fine I'm going.

* * *

It was only 11:00 and Abby was already feeling like she might die of boredom. Throwing out pamphlets from the Army and National Guard, the teen approached the cafeteria. At the doors, Abby was stopped by a pretty woman in her mid-twenties. She wore a conservative gray pantsuit along with black, square framed glasses. Abby guessed her to be of Spanish or Asian descent.

"Excuse me, are you Abby Miller?"

"Whatever it is, can you punish me for it after lunch?"

"Oh no, it's nothing like that. I'm Laura Hampton your new guidance counselor while Mr. Taylor is on leave. Your principal wanted me to meet with you later today but there's been a schedule conflict. Could we speak in my office?"

"Now? It's kind of my lunch break…"

"Ten minutes tops. There'll be plenty of undercooked meatloaf when you get back," she joked, flashing an easy smile.

"Sure," Abby replied, plainly irritated. "Sounds awesome."

"Great!" Laura enthused.

At that point, Abby's cell phone rang. Knowing that she wasn't supposed to have it turned on during school hours didn't stop the teen from answering it. The hall was deserted save for a few students and Laura Hampton could hardly be considered a real teacher

"Hello?"

"Are you at school?" Elektra snapped.

"What's going on?"

"Are you at school or are you ditching again?"

"I'm at school. How'd you even know about the-"

"Get out front right now."

"Why, what's-?"

"Just get outside."

Elektra hung up on her.

Closing the phone, Abby rolled her eyes at the disapproving look Hampton was leveling on her. "Cell phones are a violation of school policy," the counselor pointed out.

This woman took the small bit of power she wielded way too seriously. "Yeah. Listen there's a family emergency going on so we'll have to hold off on that meeting."

"Is everything all right?"

_Yes, typically during family emergencies everything was just fine and dandy. _"Yeah, nothing too bad, I have to go though."

Abby walked as fast as she could until she was out of the woman's sight, then sprang into a run. The few students she passed gave her odd looks while one of the senior English teachers demanded a hall pass. She ignored him, crashing through the main doors out into mid-day sunlight. The driveway leading up to the school was empty, no sign of ninjas, thugs, or Elektra.

"What the hell," Abby whispered. Her right hand moved towards the pocket containing her phone, but she never reached it. Suddenly her arm was being gripped painfully tight.

"I don't think you're allowed to go off school grounds without a note." Laura Hampton was glowering down at her, her fingers leaving bruises.

Screeching tires caught both their attentions before Abby could reply. A black Firebird that had obviously seen better days came barreling up the drive, stopping mere inches from where they stood. Abby watched in astonishment as Elektra jumped from the car, facing the Hampton woman who'd released Abby and was now making a grab for Elektra. The billionaire's daughter blocked the move then, faster than Abby could track, pulled a sai from who-knew-where. The weapon glinted in the sun as Elektra slashed across the woman's chest. It wasn't deep, but it gave Elektra time to pinch a nerve cluster in Hampton's neck, causing her to double over. Elektra kicked her hard in the face and Hampton dropped to the ground, seemingly unconscious.

"Get in," Elektra ordered, practically shoving Abby into the passenger seat. Reclaiming her place behind the wheel, her eyes ran quickly but thoroughly over the teen. As she did this, she shifted the still-running engine into gear."Are you hurt?"

Reeling from the unreality of what was going on Abby couldn't form the words for a denial.

"Did she hurt you?" Elektra demanded loudly.

"No," the girl finally replied.

"Good. Get your seatbelt on." Flooring the accelerator, Elektra turned her eyes to the road, peeling away from the high school.

"You attacked a teacher," Abby declared, knowing in her rational mind that this wasn't the case.

"She's with Fisk, I've seen her before. Seatbelt."

Snapping the belt across her waist, Abby still couldn't process what was happening. She'd seem stranger things of course, but the speed at which this was all happening combined with her complete lack of knowledge was making it difficult to think. "E," she cautioned, noting that they were coming up on a red light in a major intersection.

Elektra drove faster.

"E, you're not going to make the-"

The road was on a slight incline and the car caught air as it sped through the light. They narrowly avoided being smashed by a Jeep coming from the opposite direction. Once it slammed back to the street, Elektra turned the vehicle down a narrow alley, navigating it through equally narrow side streets.

"Whose car is this?" It wasn't the most pressing question, but for some reason it was the one Abby found herself asking.

"Not ours," Elektra replied tersely.

"What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Out of the city." Elektra didn't answer the first question.

"What about Matt?"

She didn't respond.

"What about Matt? What the hell is all this?"

The older woman stared resolutely ahead.

"Elektra!"

"Not now. Sit back, keep your belt on."

"But-"

"I said not now."

Abby sat back, fingers clenching nervously at the edge of her seat. The sense of unreality hadn't yet lifted and the teen's thought remained fearful and unorganized.

Elektra had been right. All those times Abby thought she was being too paranoid and Elektra was right. They'd come for her at school. Somehow it hadn't occurred to the teen that they'd come for her at school.

The teacher who wasn't a teacher who took her job far too seriously was bleeding on the sidewalk.

Elektra had stolen a car and was refusing to speak about Matt.

Then a stray thought, a crazy, insignificant one. She'd heard that people sometimes had crazy, insignificant thoughts during times of high stress.

_At least I didn't have to sit through the whole Career Day/_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone. I don't have much to say about this chapter except that I apologize for the lack of Matt in it. He was originally supposed to be there, then my muse decided to switch some scenes around and this was the result. Don't worry, there's not going to be another 6 chapter gap before you next see him. Thanks to my awesome reviewers, you guys are the epitome of awesomeness. As always, feedback is my drug of choice so please continue to be my enablers.

Lastly, I don't own 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,' though if you haven't heard it I suggest that you listen to it during the radio scene. My unfunny joke might be a tad bit funnier to those familiar with the song.

* * *

Abby managed to wait fifteen minutes before speaking again. Apparently satisfied that they were out of immediate danger, Elektra brought the car to a reasonable speed but still kept off the main streets as much as possible.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened back there?"

Elektra glanced at her but offered nothing in the way of an answer.

"Is Matt okay?"

"He should be," was the careful response.

"'Should be'?" Abby mimicked incredulously. "What does that mean?"

Silence.

Realizing that no explanation would be forthcoming, the teen stared out her window, making an effort to remain unobtrusive. Maybe if she gave Elektra some time to think, the older woman would finally clear some of this up.

Operation 'Don't Annoy Elektra' was successful for all of five minutes.

"Can I turn the radio on?"

Elektra focused on the road.

"Will you yell at me if I turn the radio on?"

Getting no response, Abby tentatively switched the car's stereo on. All this oppressive silence was making her edgy and she needed something to help her calm down. Rapidly flipping through stations, Abby searched in vain for a halfway decent song and not a commercial jingle. This went on quite awhile until the ex mercenary shot her an icy glare. "Leave it on the next station or turn it off."

Shoulders drooping, Abby hit one more button, catching Cyndi Lauper belting it out on an 80's pop station.

_That's all they really want  
Some fun  
When the working day is done  
Girls, they wanna have fun  
Oh girls just wanna have fun_

Eyes shooting rapidly between Elektra and the radio, the teen was spared having to decide what to do when Elektra slammed her finger against the power button.

The next portion of their trip was very, very quiet.

* * *

The noise that finally broke the silence was that of Abby's stomach grumbling. Shooting her passenger an annoyed look, Elektra was met by defensive brown eyes.

"What?" the teen muttered. "The psycho schoolteacher tried to grab me before lunch."

Features softening, Elektra turned smoothly into a nearby gas station. Cutting the engine, she nodded toward the glove compartment."Open that up."

Abby did as instructed, eyes widening as she retrieved the two wallets hidden inside. Before she could ask, Elektra snatched both of them, taking out a wad of cash and handing half of it to Abby. "We need to fill up anyway. Get some food, watch yourself."

"Like you won't be doing that for me."

Brows arching, Elektra pinned the girl with a cool stare until she got out of the car, eyes following as she stepped into the station. Once the tank was refilled, she joined Abby in the station, paying cash for the fuel. They walked out side by side, the teen carrying a large bag of cheap junk food.

"No credit cards in those wallets?"

"Cards can be traced."

"Right," Abby said quietly as they both climbed into the vehicle. "You hungry?"

"No."

"You sure? There's beef jerky."

"No."

"Okay…well not to beat a dead horse, but it would be really, really nice if you could give me some idea of-"

"Later."

"You said that already."

"And I'm saying it again. Later."

"But-"

"Eat."

Stopping further protestation with a dangerous look, Elektra pulled back on to the road. Taking out her cell phone, the billionaire's daughter hit one of the speed dial numbers.

"You shouldn't drive and talk on the phone," Abby reminded her, swallowing past a mouthful of beef jerky.

Elektra gave her another look.

"I'm just saying," the teen mumbled, slumping down in her seat. "If we get pulled over…"

"I don't get pulled over."

"But what if you do?"

"Then I'll handle it."

"That's comfortingly vague."

"Just be ready to move," Elektra replied. If they _were _stopped, violating the cell phone law would be the least of their problems.

* * *

"Dammit."

Slamming her phone shut, Elektra replaced it in her coat pocket, staring angrily at the road ahead.

"What's the matter?"

:"Nothing," Elektra replied shortly.

"That's what I thought."

Ignoring the sarcastic response, Elektra watched from the corner of her eye as Abby reopened the glove box. She was about to tell her charge to leave the wallets alone, then thought better of it. Abby probably wouldn't listen to her anyway and there was something to be said about picking your battles.

"Oh my God. " The teen was examining the ID's from both wallets. "You killed FBI agents?"

"Incapacitated, not killed."

"And why'd you have to 'incapacitate' a couple of Feds?"

Elektra didn't reply.

"Hey, I think I've been patient enough, gave you plenty of time to come up with a plan or whatever it is that you're doing, but give me a break here. "_What happened?"_

Sighing, Elektra turned into a residential street covered on both sides with modest, well-kept homes. Ordering Abby to hand over the identification, she cracked the window and threw both men's driver's licenses' to the pavement below. Then, noting the look of irritation Abby was leveling on her, Elektra started talking.

_The front door was partially open when Elektra got back. Instantly alert, she slipped quietly into the apartment. The living room and kitchen were trashed, cabinets thrown open, cushions ripped off the couch. Everything that could be moved had been, items strewn about carelessly. Luckily the compartment holding Matt's Daredevil gear appeared to be untouched._

_Hearing voices coming from her bedroom, Elektra gripped the sais hidden in her jacket and followed the sound of conversation. Silently, she crept across the hallway, peeking into her open bedroom door._

"_Holy shit. There's a goddamn arsenal here!"_

_A balding man in a cheap suit was pawing through her weapons stash while a muscular African American busied himself in the closet._

"_Jesus," the black man said. "Maybe Cromwell was right about this guy."_

"_What gave you that idea, the knife collection or the tear gas pellets?"_

"_You should be watching the door."_

_The balding man snorted. "You do it. When the bitch comes home snap the cuffs on her, read the rights, try not to get your ass handed to you."_

_Smirking, the black man stepped back into the walk-in closet. Releasing a low whistle, he returned a moment later holding a backless red dress. "God! Shame this Murdock's blind, he doesn't know what he's missing."_

"_Down, Riley," the other one chided, though he was leering as he said it._

"_I think I'll go watch that door since you're obviously too lazy to do it."_

"_Uh huh. You just want to get a cheap feel when you cuff her."_

"_You say that like it's a problem."_

_Discarding the dress, Riley began digging through the dresser drawers, emerging with Elektra's jewelry box. "Nice," he commented, examining a gold necklace Matt had given her sometime ago. "Hey Parsons, you think the wife would like this?"_

_Incensed, Elektra moved swiftly into the room, knocking Parsons unconscious before he had a chance to blink. Riley drew a pistol but never fired a shot. Kicking the gun from his hand, Elektra snatched up the necklace he'd dropped, placed herself behind him and wrapped the chain around his neck._

"_Who're you with?"_

_Riley made a choked, gurgling sound before gasping "FBI."_

_Despite the fact that he'd cooperated, Elektra tightened the chain. "What are you doing here?"_

"_We were supposed to question you. Murdock's getting taken in right now down at his office."_

"_For what?" Elektra growled._

"_Murder," Riley coughed out._

_Elbowing him hard in the face, Elektra made sure he was out cold before stripping both men of their guns and wallets, confirming that they were indeed FBI. Moving quickly, she crammed her weapons stash into a couple duffle bags, along with everything from inside the hidden compartment. Next she took what was left of their money. Since the accounts were frozen, they'd been living off a small bit of cash she'd saved for emergencies, but that was almost completely gone. She left the apartment within minutes, knowing the backup Steve Riley and Nathaniel Parsons were supposed to bring with them would be there soon enough._

"But how'd you know that woman was going to come after me?" Abby wondered.

"I didn't. But if it hadn't been her the police would've been there to take you into protective custody."

"So Fisk what, ratted Matt out to the Feds and tried to get at me while you were kicking their asses? How would he even know to do that?"

"I don't know, I don't know how he knows half of what he knows."

"You think he framed Matt or does he have something from…before?"

"I don't know. Matt doesn't remember what he did for The Hand, at least not much of it. He could've gotten sloppy."

"So Matt's with the FBI then?"

"I called Foggy, he's not answering. I'm not sure what happened to either of them."

Abby was quiet for a long moment. "Now what?" she asked hesitantly.

Lips pressed together as she waited at a red light, Elektra took a few seconds to reply. "We're going to need some help."

"Stick?"

"Isn't answering. Neither are any of his men that I have locations for."

"Who else is there then?"

Elektra grimaced as she came to a decision, swallowing past a sudden bad taste in her mouth.

* * *

"Atlantic City? Who's in Atlantic City?" Abby questioned as they drove through the New Jersey gambling spot.

She wasn't entirely surprised when Elektra pretended not to hear her. Frustrated, the teen watched as Elektra parked in front of a lavish apartment building. Exiting the vehicle, Elektra grabbed one of the black duffle bags from the backseat and gestured for Abby to do the same.

"Where were you anyway? After I went to school and you came back and found those guys, where'd you come back from?"

"Nowhere. I made sure you got to school, I did a few things," Elektra answered simply as they crossed the lobby and headed for the elevators.

"You followed me to school?"

"I did. By the way, how was that movie you saw last week during English class?"

So that's how she knew about the ditching. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Learn how to spot a tail and I won't have to," the older woman replied, stepping into the elevator and sending it to the thirtieth floor. The building's interior was posh and expensive looking, as evidenced by the ornately decorated hallways.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door with a cheaply made Welcome mat in front of it. Confused, Abby waited as Elektra pulled a key from under the mat and let herself in. "Is this your place?"

"No."

"Then why-?"

"Because Garrett is an idiot."

"Garrett?"

But Abby heard nothing more on the subject. Closing the door behind her, she stared around the large penthouse overlooking the city, all white walls and modern furniture. A giant screen TV and entertainment center were the highlights of the room, along with a mini bar next to sliding glass doors that led to a balcony. The kitchen was off the living room, fridge and appliances all in black.

As they dropped their bags on the floor, a blonde woman in black negligee came strolling out from a small hallway. On seeing them there the blonde's eyes narrowed. "Who're you?"

Abby looked back and forth between her and Elektra, thinking it fairly safe to assume that this was not the idiotic Garrett. Her suspicion was confirmed when Elektra next spoke.

"Does Garrett Pierce still live here?"

"Yeah…he should be home any minute. What is this?"

Seeing that her guardian appeared to be dangerously annoyed, Abby took a few steps closer to the half-naked blonde. "We're here to see my Dad," the teen said in a voice that made her sound noticeably younger.

"Your…Dad?"

"Yeah," Abby replied sweetly, widening her eyes for effect. "Garrett. My Dad. He finally agreed to see me after all these years. Right Mom?"

Glaring at Elektra over her shoulder, Abby willed the older woman to play along. However, Elektra seemed more surprised by this little improvisation than the blonde in front of her.

"I'm sorry…Mom? Garrett never said anything about being married."

"Oh that's because they weren't," Abby stated brightly, moving back to place an arm on Elektra's waist. "She got pregnant in high school, lots of people mistake us for sisters." Giving Elektra a sideways hug, Abby continued, "But just because I wasn't planned doesn't mean I wasn't loved. Right Mom?"

"Yeah…sweetie."

Mouth agape, the woman backed slowly toward the hallway. "You know what? I think I'm just going to leave, let the three of you talk this out." A minute later she was dressed and headed for the front door.

"Are you sure?" Abby asked. "We brought a camera, you can stay and take pictures so we can document the family reunion!"

The door slammed as she disappeared into the hallway.

"What was that?" Elektra demanded the moment they were alone.

"Improvisation," Abby retorted, stepping away from the older woman. "Next time you call me 'sweetie,' don't say it like you're talking to a swamp creature or an ugly gerbil."

"I had it under control without having to pass myself off as an unwed mother."

"I saw that look in your eye. You were pissed off and impatient and three seconds from pulling the Japanese salad tongs on her."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You were going to whip out the sais and tell her to get the hell out before you made her outfit red instead of black."

Without giving Elektra time to argue, she went in search of a bathroom. Finding one across from what she presumed to be Garrett's bedroom, she shut herself in but quickly reopened the door upon hearing noises in the main room.

Jogging back the way she came, Abby froze when she saw Elektra blocking the path between her and the living room. Facing away from her, the older woman was looking towards the front door.

More specifically, she was looking towards the man standing just inside the front door who was currently leveling a miniature submachine gun at her head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Wow, I haven't slipped into my pattern of bi-monthly updates yet. Must be something in the water. This chapter was a bit rushed so I apologize if it's not terribly good. Please review it anyway even if you feel like complaining about how bad it was.

* * *

"Garrett."

Behind her guardian, Abby blinked in confusion. _This _was Garrett? This was the guy who was supposed to be helping them?

"Elektra."

Both adults were tense, though not overly so. Elektra didn't seem too concerned by the gun still trained on her temple, but she kept herself between Abby and the weapon. Over her shoulder, Abby studied the man on the threshold. Garrett was taller than Matt by a good two inches, though both men looked equally muscular. Dark, close-cropped hair matched dark, hard eyes.

"Something tells me your not here for the casinos."

"Very astute."

"So is this business or pleasure?"

"I'm not working, Garrett."

"Good to know." He didn't lower the gun.

"If I wanted you dead we wouldn't be doing this."

"Pleasure then?" His mouth quirked as he said that.

"I'm not on the clock, that doesn't mean I want to be here."

"You haven't stabbed me yet."

"Yet," Elektra replied coldly. "See what happens if you don't get that gun out of my face."

Incredibly, Garrett broke into a smile, the change turning his features from cold and rough to handsome and appealing. Smirking, he dropped the gun on a nearby end table. "I've missed you."

"Shut up," Elektra replied, stepping further into the main room.

"So," Garrett said casually, noticing Abby for the first time. "Is she the reason Janelle thinks I'm a deadbeat dad?"

"Don't talk to her," Elektra told him.

"Always a ray of sunshine aren't you, E? Well, she's too old to be my kid, so there's one less thing to worry about."

"We need to talk, Garrett."

"You seem tense. Tenser than usual I mean. Drink?" Removing his brown leather jacket, Garrett went to the mini-bar and pulled out several glasses.

"No. I need to use some of your contacts."

"What about my supposed offspring?" he asked. "You want a drink kid?"

"She's sixteen years old."

"She doesn't get thirsty? Maybe she's a thirsty sixteen year-old. You a thirsty sixteen year-old, kid?"

"Abby," the teen corrected, stepping forward to shake his hand.

"Don't talk to him," Elektra commanded.

"Calm down," Garrett soothed. "She's being polite. You remember what that means don't you, E? Abby, feel like a martini?"

"No, she doesn't," Elektra answered.

"Whiskey?"

"Nah, I don't like the taste," Abby replied before she could stop herself.

"How would you know whether or not you liked the taste?" Elektra questioned, a predatory glint in her eye.

"I…wouldn't. Because drinking's bad, drinking's very, very bad."

Garrett laughed. "Pepsi for you then?"

"Garrett," Elektra cut in, getting into his personal space. "Now is not the time. I need a flight out of the country, I need papers, back stories, everything. I need them now, not after you've passed out with a shot glass in your hand."

"Hold on," Abby said. "Why are we going out of the country? We have to get Matt out of jail or wherever they took him."

"Be quiet," Elektra replied shortly. "Garrett, get on the phone."

"Elektra. No," was the simple response.

"I'm not kidding here, Garrett."

"And I am? I haven't seen you in what, five years?"

"Four."

"Right, the job in Ecuador. You cost me fifty thousand dollars you know."

"Sixty thousand. And the job was in Venezuela."

"Jesus," Garrett muttered, sipping from the drink he'd made.

"You kill people too?" Abby wondered.

"It's a living. Your Mom and I were competitors."

"She's not my mother," Abby replied quickly.

"Thank God for that," was his response.

"Garrett," Elektra warned.

"I know she's not your kid, E. She's too normal to be your kid. I did wonder what The Treasure looked like though."

"He knows about that?" Abby asked, surprised by the information.

"Abby, don't. Garrett, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

"Uh huh. I bet that's what you told McCabe wasn't it? Whatever happened to him anyway?"

Elektra flinched at the rhetorical question. "Fine. You don't want to help me then don't. But you're right, it's not safe for us to be here, not safe for any of us, so if you're not going to help me then say that right now."

Putting his drink down, Garrett looked Elektra directly in the eye, the picture of seriousness. "What would you do if I showed up on your doorstep asking you what you're asking me?"

"Garrett, I don't have time for--"

"I know you retired," he cut in. "I know what that girl is to you. So what would you do if I busted in on your happy little life, begging for help?"

"I'm not begging you for anything."

"Then what are you going to do, where are you going to go? Because I know you, E. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't important and you wouldn't be here if there was anyone else to go to."

"Forget it; I should've known you'd be useless."

"What would you do," Garrett repeated, "if it were me? If I came to you like this?"

"I'd throw you out," Elektra replied with a steely glare.

Nodding, Garrett gestured towards the couch. Abby saw something like satisfaction in his eyes. "Sit down," he told both of them.

Elektra shook her head in disgust and made to turn away. "Grab a bag," she directed the teen. "We're leaving."

"No," Garrett said, catching her elbow. "You're not." It was a statement, no hint of anger or threat.

Elektra shot him a murderous look. "Take. Your hand. Off me."

Abby stepped back, apprehension creeping into her system. Garrett offered her a sideways glance, but maintained his hold. "Sit down and tell me what you're involved in."

"That's not your business."

"It is if you want my help."

"Three seconds before you lose the hand."

"Don't turn this into a fight."

"Your choice, not mine."

He released her arm. His eyes softened imploringly while his tone remained the same. "You would've thrown me out."

"Yes."

"Well I'm not doing that. You asked me for help, I can't do that without knowing the facts."

"You're lying."

"Okay, I _won't _do that without knowing the facts. Now sit down and tell me what's happening here."

Abby watched nervously as the two engaged in a silent battle of wills.

"This isn't safe," Elektra reiterated after a few tense moments.

"Talk fast," Garrett retorted.

Another silence followed until Elektra finally turned away, perching on the arm of the couch. "Bastard," she muttered.

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Or everywhere, depending on the night. Smiling, Garrett turned to Abby. "You okay with Pepsi?"

* * *

"Soda, Murdock?"

"No thanks," Matt replied, trying hard to ignore the smoke invading his lungs.

Special Agent Tom Cromwell sat across from him, still taking a drag off his cigarette. "Chips? Maybe a hamburger?"

"Where's Franklin Nelson?"

"How about you answer my questions first, then we'll talk about your business partner."

Cromwell was a thin man in his mid-thirties who reeked of tobacco. For the last two hours he'd alternated between playing good cop and threatening to throw Matt in a cold, damp cell for the remainder of his natural life. When the blind man didn't respond to his last remark, Cromwell said, "The agents who went to your home reported being attacked by the woman we think is your girlfriend. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

"I wouldn't. I was busy getting manhandled by the rest of your fine people." The lawyer cursed himself for not hearing their approach earlier, but there'd been a screamingly loud ambulance he was trying to ignore, all the while poring over every piece of material he had on Wilson Fisk. And, reluctant as he was to admit it, his hearing still hadn't completely recovered from those months with The Hand.

"I'd say you held your own," Cromwell observed. "Agent Wolberg has a dislocated shoulder. His partner's going to need jaw repair."

"Is it normal for you to send six men to make one arrest, Cromwell?"

"About as normal as a blind man putting four of those men on medical leave. "

"I spent my childhood in one of the worst neighborhoods in New York. You learn to take care of yourself."

"Apparently so. Do you also learn the importance of resisting arrest?"

Matt said nothing. The last time he was grabbed unexpectedly, he'd wound up tortured and brainwashed.

"Now back to this girlfriend of yours…"

"No. No more questions without my lawyer."

"Come on, Matt, I think you can handle that by yourself."

"And I think you can tell me what I'm being charged with."

"Well, I'm sure Agent Fritz would've done that if you hadn't knocked his teeth into his throat."

"Agent Fritz isn't here. You are. And I want to know what this is."

"Easy there, Murdock. No need to get excited."

"I'm chained to a table, Cromwell. How excited do you think I'm going to get?"

"I'm sorry, are you uncomfortable?"

"You're not sorry, and no, I'm not uncomfortable." This man didn't have the faintest understanding of the word 'uncomfortable.'

"Were you aware of a…" There was a rustling of paper as Cromwell skimmed over his reports, "'hidden compartment' in the living room of your residence?"

"The realtor must've skipped that feature."

"Obviously. What's your relationship with Abigail Miller?"

Matt leaned back in the hard, plastic chair, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Matt, you're making this harder than it has to be."

"I guess you'll have to work for your paycheck then. Where's Franklin Nelson?"

"Mr. Nelson won't be representing you in this matter."

"Why's that?"

"Aside from the obvious conflict of interests' situation, Franklin Nelson is being investigated for perjury charges."

"Excuse me?"

"There's reason to believe he bribed the witnesses in one of his cases last year."

"And how much did Fisk bribe you with to go along with this garbage?"

"Wilson Fisk is an upstanding member of this community and entirely irrelevant to you and your friend's illegal activities."

"Get out," Matt said darkly. "Get me a lawyer or get out."

Heaving a sigh, Cromwell stood up and unlocked the door to the interrogation room. "All right, we'll get you a lawyer. Sit tight blind man."

Matt glared silently as the door shut behind the crooked FBI agent.

* * *

"Christ," Garrett swore, knocking back a shot of tequila.

Elektra, sitting as far away from him as humanly possible, clenched her fist in agitation. "You got your story so do what I asked you to do. Cash, ID's, cover stories."

"We can't leave," Abby insisted from her spot on a nearby armchair.

"_We're _not," Elektra replied, giving her charge a pointed look.

"No," the teen denied once realization dawned. "You're not sending me to hide out there."

"And I'm not keeping you here."

"What've you been doing for the last six months?"

"I told you that if things got dangerous—"

"Things are _always _dangerous!" Abby exclaimed. "I'm not leaving you."

"You're going to the mountains as soon as I can get a flight."

"No," Abby replied hotly. "I'm not."

Eyes flashing, Elektra sat forward on the couch. "That wasn't a request."

"No kidding."

A quick flash of Abby with a bullet in her stomach. "Listen. I'm not putting up with your teenage rebellion streak right now."

"So drag me to The Compound and see how long I stay."

"We're not debating this. You're getting out of here as soon as possible."

"While you deal with Fisk, his crazy girlfriend, and the FBI by yourself?"

"Hey," Garrett interrupted before the argument could get any worse. "You're talking about a moot point here."

Turning her attention to him, Elektra waited impatiently for further elaboration.

"You haven't been keeping up with things," he stated.

"I've been busy."

"Elektra, The Hand found them. They found the stronghold."

"That's not possible."

"Have you been able to reach Stick? Or any of them? I went there myself once the rumors started. The Compound's gone, E. They burnt it to the ground."

* * *

The smell of cheap cigarettes still hung in the air when the door next opened.

"Mr. Murdock, I'm Carrie Smith. Your public defender."

Out of habit Matt checked her heart and pulse rate, finding that both were steady, no signs of deception He then took a moment to formulate what exactly he was going to say to her.

Matt couldn't see Carrie Smith, nor did he particularly care to.

Elektra and Abby could've seen her had they been there. Had they not escaped, had they somehow found themselves in that interrogation room with him, they would've seen what he couldn't.

Carrie Smith was also Laura Hampton, the woman Elektra had confronted outside Abby's school.

Laura Hampton was also Maya, the woman Elektra saw on Fisk's arm the night she planned on killing him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Here we are again. I apologize profusely if this chapter is somewhat lacking, it was originally slated to be a few pages longer, but, as usual, I got lazy. And yes, I know Matt's not around much, but that certainly won't be the case for long. Like it or hate it, please let me know what you think.

* * *

"Well Mr. Murdock, let's get down to business shall we?"

Tilting his head to the side, Matt breathed deeply. He didn't speak.

"Mr. Murdock?" the woman questioned as she took the empty seat across from him.

"Matt," the blind man corrected, his tone strangely distant.

"Matt. We've got our work cut out for us don't we?" Flashing white teeth, Smith began rifling through her briefcase.

"Do we? It might be easier if someone around here told me what I was being accused of."

"My apologies, I assumed you already knew that information."

"You know what they say about assumptions, Miss Smith."

"Carrie, please.. What do you know about Abby Miller?"

"And here I was thinking the interrogation was over," Matt replied coolly.

"I ask because the FBI seems to think you kidnapped her. They're of the opinion that you murdered her father, brought her to the city, and created false adoption records."

"Interesting. What else?"

"I think we'd be better off handling one thing at a time, Matt."

"I disagree. Could you explain to me the rest of the charges please?"

"There's the issue of resisting arrest, assaulting federal officers, but those shouldn't be your main concerns right now."

"Saving the best for last."

"Does the name Charles Mitchum ring any bells?"

"Should it?"

"I'd say so. Surveillance footage from Mitchum's home puts you in his library."

"Hmmm. I don't usually have much time for reading."

"Are you telling me that you didn't break into Charles Mitchum's home and slit his throat?"

"Is that what Agent Cromwell told you?"

"I haven't seen the footage myself, but yes."

Shaking his head, Matt released a dry chuckle. "Heck of a time to get caught on 'Candid Camera.'"

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation,."

"I disagree. I think I understand well enough."

"Hostility towards me won't get you out of here any faster."

"Are you familiar with His Majesty's Reserve?"

"Pardon?"

"Cigars. They're either the most expensive in the world or they're close to the top of the list."

"I don't see how this pertains to your defense."

"You're not familiar with them then?"

"I'm afraid not."

"That surprises me. Your jacket smells like Cognac. Did you know they infuse those cigars with Cognac? I hear they run for $750 a stick."

The dark haired beauty said nothing.

"I can definitely smell the tobacco. Not the stuff Cromwell smokes, the premium blend. You know there's only one person I've ever met with pockets deep enough to buy those things."

"I'm not sure what you're implying."

"Are you all right, Carrie?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Blood. Did you hurt yourself recently?" Leaning forward, Matt fixed his gaze near her chest. He didn't know Elektra had slashed the woman during her earlier fight. "I think you should go," the blind man stated.

"You requested counsel. Firmly requested from what I hear."

"I'm starting to think it'd be best if I represented myself."

"I'm just trying to do my job, Mr. Murdock," Smith replied coldly.

"I know, and I'm going to make it easier for you. Go report to your boss; tell him how I'm holding up. Unless you're going to try killing me right now?"

No answer.

"Then tell Fisk that what he wants? It's not coming that easy."

Scowling, the woman gathered up her papers before snapping her briefcase shut. Gracefully, she stood and signaled the guard outside that she was ready to leave. "Goodbye, Mr. Murdock. Let me know if you have a change of heart."

"I'll do that, Ms. Smith."

* * *

"It's not possible," Elektra repeated.

"There's nothing up there, Elektra. Nothing but ash."

"Bodies?"

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"Enough."

"Identifiable?"

"Some."

"Stick wasn't there?"

"Not that I saw."

Elektra had begun to pace, arms crossed over her chest. Abby remained seated, obviously taken aback.

"You okay?"

Elektra glared, ignoring Garrett's frown of concern.

"Sorry I asked."

Heavy silence fell over the room. Eventually, Elektra turned to the other two, her face unreadable. "Make the call."

"What? You can't be serious."

"Abby, we're not doing this."

"If The Compound is gone, where do you expect me to go?"

"I'll find a place."

"Elektra," the teen muttered, halfway between shock and anger.

"Garrett," the older woman said, eyes locking with his.

Shrugging, Garrett stood up and cracked his knuckles. "I'll give Marty a call; he'll get you what you need."

"Is he trustworthy?"

"Have you forgotten what business we're in?"

"Is he reliable?" Elektra questioned, words tinged with venom.

"You'll know soon enough if he's not."

* * *

"We're meeting him tomorrow at 4:00,"

Abby glanced up just in time to see Elektra pin Garrett with a sour look.

"You couldn't have scheduled this earlier?"

"These things take time, Elektra, you know that."

"You brought up McCabe. He took time. Whatever happened to him anyway?"

At her repeat of what he'd said earlier, Garrett closed the gap between them. "I wouldn't worry about it. Not even Fisk would think to look for you here."

"That arrogance is going to get you killed."

"That's great. You lecturing me about overconfidence."

"You haven't changed your address, the apartment's in your name. Why don't you put a sign on the door to go with that Welcome mat?"

"I'm not the one that left every door unlocked, you think that was safe? And with all you did to stay under the radar, which of us is in the better position right now?"

Without answering, Elektra pushed past him and headed down the hallway.

* * *

"Sure, you can use my computer. Oh no, don't bother asking."

Ignoring him, Elektra returned several minutes later with Garrett's laptop in hand. Setting it on the kitchen table, she pulled up a chair and waited for the machine to boot up.

"I hope you're not looking for a shoe sale on Amazon," Garrett remarked. Abby was staring aimlessly into the open refrigerator. Cheese, margarita mix, and a rotting apple. Not much of a selection.

"Charming," Elektra muttered as the computer came to life.

"What's the problem now?" Garrett asked, coming to stand behind her chair.

"Janelle must love this," Elektra replied.

"She does," Garrett replied, smirking at his desktop background of a scantily clad redhead. Pressing a few buttons, he changed the image to that of a sunny green meadow. "That's the one she sees."

"Clever."

"I thought so," Garrett replied, disregarding the sarcasm. "What are you looking for?"

Opening the Internet browser, Elektra did a Google search for Wilson Fisk, changing the results to images. "I don't need your help."

"That's a $3000 computer. You're getting my help."

"Back off."

"This is still my home, Elektra. I know you've never been much for acting like a human being but—"

"Don't push me Garrett."

"Maybe it's time somebody did."

"Hey," Abby cut in, joining them at the table. "Elektra, leave him alone. Garrett…don't piss her off."

The adults traded lethal glares before Elektra turned her attention back to the screen. Scrolling down, she clicked on a photo from one of Kingpin's recent charity benefits. She felt Abby tense up as the picture came into focus.

"I hope you cut her pretty deep," Abby said bitterly.

"Fisk's new arm candy?" Garrett guessed.

"Not new. I want to find out who she is, why she's doing this."

"What happened to 'shoot first, ask questions later?"

Garrett smiled at the scathing inquiry. "I think I like this kid, E."

"Don't," Elektra replied. To Abby, "The more you know about the enemy, the easier it is to defeat them."

"I'll defeat her. Just give me of your knives and an acetylene torch."

Scanning the article, Elektra was unable to find a name for the woman. Swearing under her breath, Elektra was surprised when Garrett reached for her fingers on the mouse pad.

"Don't pull your physical paranoia bit on me," he told her.

"I've got it under control."

"It's a computer; you can't stab the information out of it. And if you do you owe me three grand." Unfazed by the tension rolling off her, Garrett moved Elektra's hand to the table, copied the picture of Fisk and his date, then closed out the window. The screen flashed briefly to the picture of the happy meadow before Garrett hit a few keys, pulling up what looked like a database.

"What is this," Elektra asked.

Bringing the copied image back onscreen, Garrett resized it so that only the dark hired woman was visible. He typed a few more commands, grinning as he hit the 'Enter' key.

Within seconds, the screen was filled with information on the woman they now knew as Maya Lopez. Both speed readers, Garrett and Elektra finished the page before Abby completed the first paragraph. Garrett released a low whistle while Elektra sucked in a quick breath.

"What?" Abby demanded, having learned nothing more than Maya's full name and age.

"Fisk. He adopted her."

"What?" Abby repeated, completely flabbergasted.

"Her father worked for him. Fisk adopted her after he died."

The teen's mouth dropped open. "Kingpin was playing Daddy Warbucks?" In response, she was favored with two blank stares. "Daddy Warbucks? _Annie_? Rich bald guy takes in singing orphan? Never mind."

"She's deaf," Elektra muttered.

Abby was growing more confused by the second. "She can't be deaf. I talked to her, she sounded normal. She wasn't using sign language."

"She reads lips," Garrett surmised. "Went to a school for disabled prodigies after Fisk got custody. She'd graduated by the time he was arrested. Must've learned it there."

"And we knew nothing about this?" Abby said disbelievingly.

"No one did," Elektra replied

"Except for these guys," the teen mused. To Garrett she asked, "What is this, the CIA's secret files?"

"No, this is something else."

Without a word, Garrett disappeared down the hallway, much the same as Elektra had a few minutes earlier.

* * *

Around 9:00 that night, Abby reentered the kitchen to find an interesting scene. Garrett's table was rather long, though every square inch of it was currently in use. At one end, Garrett sat cleaning, polishing, and loading his guns, of which there were many. At the other end was Elektra, cleaning and sharpening the weapons they'd brought with them. The table space was divided perfectly, half guns, half knives. Elektra probably measured to make sure it was equal. The only sounds were that of metal against metal and bullet chambers clicking open.

Brows arcing, Abby crossed to Elektra's side, reaching for one of the newly sharpened sais.

"Those are still off limits," Elektra barked without looking up.

Grimacing, the teen went to Garrett's side of the table, examining the firearms. "I've never seen guns like this," Abby stated, indicating some odd, more futuristic looking weapons.

"Those are custom," Garrett replied proudly as he checked the safety on an M16 rifle.

"Oh. So, are we picking up ID's or charging into World War III?"

"Too cautious is better than not cautious enough," Garrett answered.

"Oh," Abby replied, noting the look of displeasure on Elektra's face. Idly, she reached for one of the smaller handguns.

"Don't."

The command came from both adults. Realizing that they'd spoken simultaneously, Garrett favored Elektra with an odd half-smirk. Elektra waited for Abby to back away from the weapon, then offered him a cold stare.

"Sorry," Abby declared. She wasn't really, but the silence in this room needed to be filled. Elektra nodded curtly. Garrett didn't acknowledge her apology at all.

"Where are we meeting that guy tomorrow?"

"The Sheraton Hotel," Garrett replied flatly. Something flashed in Elektra's eyes, but it was gone before Abby could decipher it.

"Oh," Abby said for the third time. "So how'd you get that stuff about Kingpin's mental case daughter?"

"He was named as her guardian, not her father. The-"

"Abby," Elektra said before he could finish. "Go to bed."

"It's still early."

"I don't care."

"I'm sixteen."

"I don't care."

"What am I supposed to sleep in, you didn't pack clothes."

"Wear what you have on; we'll get new stuff tomorrow."

"Where do you want me to sleep?"

Elektra tilted her head toward the couch.

"She can have the bed, E."

"No, you can have the bed, Garrett."

Sighing, Garrett put down the .38 he was cleaning. "I'll wash the sheets if that's what you're worried about."

"Abby, take the couch."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"Don't worry about it."

"You're not going out tomorrow if you're half-asleep." Garrett warned.

"Meditation. All the benefits of sleep in half the time. And don't try telling me what I will or won't be doing."

Shaking his head, Garrett crossed to the bar in his sitting area. "I need a drink."

* * *

Guns, guns everywhere. Too many bullets

Sharp pain as a round bit into her ankle.

Abby, grabbing her, trying to drag her across the open parking lot.

Abby, dead from a bullet wound to the gut.

Jerking out of her meditative trance, Elektra left Garrett's small office, her home for the night. He'd given her a pillow and blanket, neither of which she'd made use of. Blinking rapidly, she went quickly toward the living room.

That wasn't going to happen tomorrow. The place with all the gunfire was a motel. Small, much smaller than the Sheraton. She couldn't get a clear fix on it but she knew it wasn't the Sheraton.

Goddammit this wasn't fair!

The future could be changed, not every flash or vision she'd had came true, they couldn't have.

Abby wasn't in here.

That wasn't right, she was supposed to be in here. Just like she was supposed to move across that parking lot before the bullet hit.

Goddammit this wasn't fair!

"You're hovering."

Miraculously, Elektra managed to not jump thirty feet in the air. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

Closing the balcony door behind her, Abby plopped down on the couch, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "You're not supposed to be hovering."

"I'm not," Elektra denied, resting her hip against the edge of a leather recliner.

"You hugged me for no reason."

The older woman frowned in puzzlement.

"A couple weeks ago, you came in my room and hugged me for no reason."

"Do I need one?"

A beat of silence. "Guess not," the teen replied. The uncertainty there broke something in Elektra.

"I hugged you two weeks ago so that means I'm hovering?"

"Nothing happened two weeks ago. No one died, no one got close to dying."

Elektra tilted her head quizzically.

"You hugged me when I came back after the maze. Then you hugged me when Dad died. Then you, me and Matt went through this whole protective thing for awhile because of what almost happened with Bullseye. You hovered then, too. And after Matt came back, while we were on that island. We sat there and watched movies and hung out like normal people. And you'd sneak into my room at night, watch me sleep."

Elektra chuckled ruefully. "You're getting better."

"Or your getting worse," Abby teased. "You actually thought I was sleeping." The teen sobered quickly as she went on. "Two weeks ago you started doing it again. Except I don't think anything major happened that day, so I'm not sure why it started."

"Does it bother you that much?"

"By itself no."

"Good."

"It's not like you'd tell me why anyway."

"Maybe I don't have a reason."

Abby shook her head in the darkened room. "You always do. Maybe you could start treating me like an adult and let me help you for once."

"You can't." It was barely a whisper, spoken so quietly Matt would've had trouble picking it up.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

Elektra's nails dug into the rich, black leather.

"Didn't think so," Abby muttered sadness clear in her voice. "What about Stick?"

Caught unaware by the rapid change in topic, Elektra was pleasantly surprised that Abby would let it go so easily. "What about him?"

"Is Garrett telling the truth? Do you really think that Stick—that all of them—are just gone?"

"Not all of them. Stick always had people away from The Compound doing one thing or another."

"But you trust him. Garrett."

"Garrett's not a liar."

"So you trust him."

"He's not a liar," Elektra repeated. "There'd be no reason for it, not about this."

"You don't trust him but he's not a liar."

"Something like that."

Another long beat of silence.

"When did the drinking start?"

Now it was Elektra's turn to shock the teen with an unexpected topic. In the dark, she watched Abby curl in on herself. "Abby?" she prodded firmly.

"It was a joke. He asked me about the whiskey, I was trying to be funny. That's all."

"You want me to treat you like an adult? Start acting like one." Elektra couldn't believe herself. She sounded like a mother in badly written after school special.

"It's done now, promise."

"It was after Matt."

Abby nodded infinitesimally. Elektra mirrored the action. It was the only thing that made sense. Abby couldn't possibly drink with Matt serving as a living breathalyzer. "Why?" the older woman asked, forcing calm.

Abby shrugged.

"I asked you a question."

"Matt was dead, I thought I was going nuts, having dreams about him killing me. Seemed like the thing to do."

"That was the solution you came up with?"

"I couldn't get Andrew Mason to sell me his anti-depressants, so yeah."

Elektra couldn't tell whether or not that was a joke. Truthfully she didn't want to. "How much?"

"Don't know, enough to get hung over. You drank with Foggy after the funeral."

"Do I really need to tell you all the reasons that argument doesn't hold up?"

"No. Matt was gone, everything was messed up, I just wanted to feel better."

"Matt was gone, I wasn't."

"You might as well have been," Abby countered.

Elektra bit her lip to stop an angry response. Those months following the shooting went by in a painful fog, and the ex mercenary found it hard even to recall that time. In any event, Abby had managed to get herself drunk on more than one occasion without the older woman noticing a thing.

"Where did it happen?"

"School. Some of the kid's houses. Not at home."

"How often?"

"I wasn't keeping a log."

Elektra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What are we talking about here?"

"Beer, wine coolers. Sometimes tequila."

The kid was genuinely apologetic, Elektra knew that. Abby realized it was stupid, she'd stopped, she was being straight about it. "We'll talk more later."

Abby was clearly surprised by how angry Elektra seemed. "It was dumb, I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry. That doesn't make it okay." Elektra didn't know where this was coming from, she honestly didn't. She only knew the sudden, white hot anger leaking into her voice and body language.

"E…"

"How do you expect to defend yourself if you can't stand up straight?" Another flash of Abby bleeding to death in a parking lot. "I thought you were smarter than that."

Abby said nothing, which only seemed to fuel the fire. "Those friends, you could've been shot in their driveway. Is that what you want?"

This wasn't right, she wasn't thinking. That damn vision was skewing everything. Abby was fine. Abby was fine. Abby was fine.

This wasn't right. She couldn't—shouldn't—be doing this now. Silently, Elektra walked out of the room, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Yes, I know we all miss Matt. I know I'm a bad, bad writer for constantly finding ways to separate our favorite couple and torment our favorite blind man He'll be back shortly, I just couldn't fit him in here. Now that I've given you fair warning, read, enjoy, and leave some feedback on your way out.

* * *

She was going to kill him.

Soon. Force him down and shoot him with one of his omnipresent guns. Elektra found this idea mildly comforting as he dropped a plate of rock-hard pastries in front of her.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked," he stated setting a mug of coffee next to the plate.

Bringing the drink to her lips, Elektra scowled as she took a small sip. "I don't like sugar in my coffee."

"I know," Garrett returned, taking the seat across from her. "

The shotgun. She'd use the custom-made shotgun he was so fond of. It'd be messy at close range, but she was used to messy. Grabbing one of the stale baked goods, she cringed at the chunks of blue scattered across its surface.

"Darn, you don't like blueberries either. Forgot. If I'd known you were coming I wouldn't have bought all the same flavor." He grinned from ear to ear.

"If you'd known I was coming, you'd have packed up and left," Elektra declared flatly.

"You speak the truth," he confirmed.

Sighing, Elektra tried catching the eye of her protégé, but Abby refused to meet her gaze. She'd have to remedy that later, once she devised a way to apologize without actually apologizing. No reason to make the kid think her behavior was acceptable, even if Elektra had handled last night poorly. She'd die before letting the teen end up like Garrett, who, at the moment, was downing a bottle of Corona.

"You do remember we have things to do?"

"Yeah, eight hours from now."

"Just make sure you're sobered up by then."

"Says the woman with eyes redder than her costume. Meditation doesn't seem to be doing the job."

Chair legs scraped tile as Abby hastily left the table, discarding her half-eaten scone.

"Where are you going?" The question came out more harshly than Elektra meant it to.

"I saw a Denny's two blocks up; I'm getting my own breakfast."

* * *

She hadn't of course. Elektra never would've allowed it, leaving her trapped with the adults all day. God what a long day.

And to think, 24 hours ago she'd been whining about a stupid career fair.

The trouble started almost immediately after they found out about Maya Lopez and her connection with Fisk. Garrett had demanded that both their phones be destroyed, lest the authorities use them to track their whereabouts. Not an unreasonable course of action, except that Elektra decided to argue him, insisting that their specially ordered (entirely illegal) cell phones could not be traced. Garrett then informed her that unless those phones had been upgraded within the last six weeks, they needed to be trashed. Something about new trace programs from the eggheads working the FBI's tech division.

Then they argued. Heatedly.

Tired of listening to the back-and-forth, Abby relinquished her phone to the dark haired man, who promptly slid out the battery, saying that he might find use for the other components later. However, the situation was drastically different when Elektra finally parted ways with her own phone. Rather than quickly removing the power source, Garrett disappeared, came back with a hammer, and proceeded to smash the thing to bits on his kitchen counter. While this was going on, Elektra's hand rested a few centimeters to the left of where he was pounding. Garrett would come dangerously close to crushing her fingers, looking sorely disappointed when she failed to react.

Abby seemed to be the only one to find this behavior odd.

The remainder of that night was spent with the two of them fighting over anything and everything, locked in a bizarre struggle for dominance. This culminated in a tense standoff when Elektra caught Garrett on his cell early the next morning

"Who was that?"

"None of your business," he'd replied easily.

""Garrett."

"What? What's your problem?"

"My problem is that the police, the FBI, and Wilson Fisk are all chomping at the bit to get at me. My problem is you having whispered conversations and hanging up the minute I pass by."

"You think I'd call the cops? You think I'd bring that kind of heat on myself?"

"What about Fisk?"

The two stood in the hallway while Abby sat blurry eyed in the living room, the noise waking her from a not-so-restful slumber. She watched Garrett throw his hands up in exasperation. "Why would I tell Kingpin where you are?"

"He's probably got a price on my head already."

"He probably does."

"I know you, Garrett; I know how much you like fancy things to go with your fancy apartment."

"Where the hell do you get off? You show up, tell me how bad things are for you, then you look at me like I'm a goddamn cockroach every chance you get. I'm trying to help you, and you do this."

"Cut the self-righteousness and tell me who you called."

"Janelle called me to break it off, which, by the way, wouldn't have happened if you hadn't come here in the first place."

"Give me your phone."

"What?"

"I want to see for myself."

He did, waiting 'til angry green eyes flew up to meet his. "Call history gets deleted as soon as you hang up. Didn't want to leave a trail if the wrong person got a hold of it."

"If you're lying to me…" Elektra growled.

"I had all night to bring in the cavalry if that's what I wanted. You're getting so paranoid you can't think straight. If you're really stupid enough to think I'm against you then get the hell out."

Both stood rigid. Then Elektra made to go around him, but Garrett blocked her path. Trapping her arm in a grip too tight to be friendly, he said, "Don't question my loyalty. Ever." His tone was low, dangerous.

"Don't give me reason to," Elektra shot back. Her next move was to shove him hard enough that he stumbled back a few steps. Righting himself, Garrett advanced on her. Their body language was all wrong and for a moment Abby was sure they were actually going to duke it out.

Then it was over. Garrett stopped, backed away, and let Elektra pass. Obviously furious, they exchanged ice cold glares and that was it. An hour later all three of them were sitting at the kitchen table while Garrett played host.

Because that wasn't weird at all.

Right now she was listening from the back seat they discussed the coming meeting. "You ready?" Garrett asked.

Elektra (having insisted on driving even though it was Garrett's vehicle) held open her jacket long enough to reveal the knives hidden underneath. "You?"

"Always," he replied, showing the high caliber pistols he was carrying.

Nodding, Elektra twisted around to look at Abby. "We'll be out in ten minutes."

The automatic protest died on her lips. Elektra was edgier than usual and Abby knew from his face in the rearview mirror that Garrett wouldn't argue this time Annoyed, the teen clenched her fingers on the door handle. Three years later and she _still_ had to miss the good stuff.

Expecting them to leave immediately, Abby was surprised when Garrett reached below his seat and removed a Glock 9mm. Flicking a switch, he shifted to offer her the gun. "You ever use one of these before?"

"No," Abby replied, frustrated by the hint of fear in her voice.

"No," Elektra stated emphatically, eyes boring into his.

"The safety's on," he assured them.

"She can handle herself without it."

"Too cautious is better than not cautious enough."

"I said no, Garrett."

Loathe to interject during one of their staring contests Abby felt a rush of something she couldn't name as Garrett finally backed off, putting the gun where he'd found it. Catching her eye in the mirror he asked, "Can you drive?"

"Of course I can drive,"

Garrett pulled a key from his jeans pocket, tossing it to her. "Good. As long as you can move this thing if you have to."

"It's a hotel parking lot, I think I can manage."

Elektra laughed derisively.

"What?"

"Flashback to your Driver's Ed days."

"Okay, that hydrant was in a crappy spot and I clearly had the right-of-way.

Sobering, Elektra glanced at Garrett, opening her door as he did the same. "Ten minutes," she repeated.

* * *

Completing the trek to the entrance, Elektra and Garrett waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. "Why here?"

"Marty likes the restaurant's buffet," Garrett shrugged. They entered the elevator, Garrett pressing the button that would take them up. After climbing a few floors though, he hit the 'stop' button, halting their ascent.

Instantly suspicious, Elektra looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Finding out what's wrong with you," he replied bluntly. "On the drive over you were watching the buildings like a deer in headlights. You scoped the place out for twenty minutes before you parked"

"Too cautious is better than not cautious enough," she stated, turning his own words against him.

"Elektra."

"Don't do that," she snapped.

"Do what?" Garrett asked bewildered.

Say her name like that. He sounded like Matt when he did that. "Forget it."

"You're jumping at shadows; you're head's not in the game."

Restarting the elevator, Elektra pinned him with the fiercest glare she could muster. "Here's what we'll do. You take care of you, I take care of me, we get this done as quickly as possible and walk out reasonably happy."

Garrett smirked as the doors opened to their floor. "Didn't you say that exact same thing to me before? In the hotel room in Sweden?"

Screw the shotgun. She'd kill him with one of his pistols, aiming for non-fatal places to prolong his suffering.

* * *

The meeting went off without a hitch, ignoring the fact that Garrett threatened to blow Marty's kneecaps off if he didn't receive a ten percent discount. When the man refused, Elektra ran a sai along his windpipe, and engaged him in what she considered a very pleasant conversation.

They got a twenty percent discount.

Marty said he'd have everything ready in two days.

Garrett pressed a revolver to his temple.

Marty said he'd have everything ready by tomorrow night.

Drifting through a nearby Wal-Mart, Elektra threw Garrett an irritated scowl. "You didn't need to come in."

"I have to pick up a prescription. Besides, you might need backup."

"I never need backup."

"You being here would tend to contradict that. Make it quick, the place is full of security cameras."

"I know that. Meet at the truck in fifteen."

A terse nod later and he was gone, leaving her to catch up to Abby. Her charge was rifling through the clothes racks, tilting her head this way and that. Glancing at her watch, Elektra snatched up an assortment of clothes, and tossed them in the cart. "Let's go."

Making a face, Abby searched dubiously through the pile of garments. "A Hannah Montana T-shirt? You're really that mad about the drinking?"

"Wear it to bed, no one will see it."

"These pants are two sizes too big."

"They'll shrink."

"And this?" Abby questioned, holding up a _High School Musical_ sweatshirt.

"Wear it to bed when the other one gets dirty."

With the clothes situation taken care of, they moved on, eventually arriving in the electronics department. Throwing two prepaid cell phones in the cart, they checked out and were inside Garrett's Dodge Ram within twelve minutes.

Keeping an eye out, Elektra decided she had to give him credit for at least one thing. Bulletproof windows were a nice feature. In the rearview mirror, Elektra studied her young charge, forgetting briefly about the need to get out of the open. "I hate to tell you this," she said, "but I'm going to have to say no on the Washington trip."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I figured that out,"

A beat of silence. "You wouldn't have liked it anyway."

"Nah, a trip to the capital with people my own age, national monuments. It would've sucked."

Elektra nodded. "I would've gone with you."

Abby's head shot up, her expression one of utter mortification. "Um…no."

"They needed chaperones. I couldn't let you go alone."

"I cut out that part. How'd…never mind." A moment later: "You get bored. You get so bored during the day that you have to go through the garbage can in my room and glue stuff back together."

Smiling, Elektra continued to tease her protégé. "Why wouldn't you want me there?"

"Well, for starters, you'd be responsible for other kids too, you couldn't just hover over me 24/7. Then there's the whole thing with you scaring everyone."

"I scare people?"

"If you don't know that already we've got bigger problems than I thought."

"It could've been fun," Elektra argued, mildly stung by what Abby was telling her.

"If Matt went. Matt doesn't scare people." A quick intake of breath. "Sorry, I say stupid things when I'm stressed. Like you don't know that already."

"It's okay," Elektra replied softly. She'd started this to make things better between them, prove she wasn't going to blow up again for something Abby hadn't done in months. And now the air was thick with tension again, just of a different kind. "I'm okay."

"Yeah. Sorry," Abby mumbled. "You're worried about him though."

"It's okay," Elektra repeated "We'll figure it out."

Nodding, Abby fidgeted restlessly, a curious expression on her face.

"What?" Elektra asked noting the change in demeanor.

"Nothing."

"Abby."

"Nothing."

Turning around, Elektra narrowed her eyes threateningly.

"Garrett knows how you take your coffee."

The older woman glared.

"I'm just saying."

Seconds later, Garrett climbed into the passenger seat, dropping a small bag of groceries on the truck's floor. Eyebrows raised, he noted the scowl on Elektra's face that, for once, wasn't aimed in his direction. "Something I should know?"

"Let's get out of here," Elektra replied sliding the key in the ignition.

* * *

"Let's talk, you and I."

Garrett, who'd been sitting at the counter with his laptop, was suddenly towering over Elektra, his voice cool but urgent. The former assassin went smoothly to her feet, abandoning her sit-ups. "What's going on?" she asked, all business.

Abby stopped her perusal of a year-old _Rolling Stone _magazine, watching with interest as Garrett turned on his heel, slammed the computer shut and threw it under one arm. "Get in here," he said, jerking his head towards the hallway and, presumably, his room.

Elektra followed without question. A door shut as they disappeared from view. A minute of silence.

Just as the teen was getting up to eavesdrop (she would've done it earlier but had truly expected another shouting match, making that unnecessary) she heard the click of a doorjamb. Elektra came out first, her expression deadly. Striding to the living room, she began pacing back and forth in a perfectly straight line. Her demeanor resembled that of a caged animal.

Garrett retraced her steps a moment later. "Ease up" he commanded.

"Fuck you," she replied poisonously

"This won't help," he said evenly.

Spinning , Elektra half-punched-half scratched his stubble-covered cheek. Tiny droplets of blood stained the carpet. Garrett didn't fall. In a series of quick moves, he trapped her wrists, using his superior strength to drive her towards the wall. Her spine popped from the impact.

Abby was up instantly, but the two combatants were faster than she could ever be at this stage. From across the room, Abby caught a glimpse of something she'd never seen, not to this degree.

Elektra's eyes were wild. Murderous.

Abby stopped short.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **I humbly present for your reading pleasure, chapter 8. This one has more language than usual, but I feel the situations justify it. Please feed my muse with reviews, PM's, carrier pigeons holding feedback notes, whatever works for you. As usual, this is edited solely by me so I apologize for any mistakes.

* * *

The teen watched frozen to the spot as Elektra kicked hard into Garrett's ankle. The hitman winced, loosening his grip on her wrists. Freeing herself, Elektra twisted his right hand. The crack of bone was sickeningly loud. Pressing her advantage, Elektra slammed him up against the wall, reversing their positions. Her arm pressed against his neck.

"Don't shoot the messenger. That mean anything to you, E" No fear, not even concern. He sounded relaxed, conversational.

Nothing happened for a long moment. Then a flash of motion as Elektra let go, allowing him to breathe freely again. The look of blood-lust was gone by the time she turned around, downgraded from murderous rage to seething anger.

"That was uncalled for," Garrett remarked, probing at his hand. The scratch on his face bled sluggishly.

Giving no reply, Elektra pressed her palms together, raising them up near her lips. Centering herself, Abby realized. She did that when she was really, really, starting to lose it, when she was grasping at the very edge of the rope. She'd done that a lot when Matt was dead. Or not dead. Missing, whatever.

"You haven't mellowed out, that's for sure. I thought family life was supposed to mellow people out."

"Garrett," Elektra growled in a disturbingly quiet voice. Shit. Last time she'd heard that particular tone, Abby had just gotten through explaining how she couldn't clean her room for a month because she was writing a paper on the psychological impact of cleanliness on OCD sufferers.

"If it's broken, no dessert for you." Another loud crack as he pushed on his index finger.

"Would you shut up and let me think?"

"Maybe you could've gathered your thoughts _before _mangling my hand."

"You're ambidextrous."

"That's not the point, Elektra."

"You'll live," was the icy reply.

Garrett held up the middle finger of his uninjured hand.

"Hey," Abby yelled. "Where's the fire?"

Her inquiry was met with silence. Elektra looked away; Garrett frowned, offered what might have been a sympathetic look, and went to get an ice pack from the fridge.

Shit.

When Elektra made eye contact again, her expression was a careful mask, emotions hidden just below the surface. The look reminded Abby of lying on a cot, of feeling sick and dizzy from the sedative, of being told her father was dead.

Shit.

* * *

"He knew. I don't know how. I'm sorry."

Coming around his desk, Wilson Fisk clasped massive hands on her shoulders. "It doesn't matter." Maya held his gaze, but he saw how difficult it was for her, saw the disappointment and self-reproach. Good.

"What next?"

"Go home."

She looked at him like a puppy that'd been kicked into a drainage ditch.

"Go home," he repeated softly, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her shoulders. "You did well. Get some rest."

She didn't understand, he knew that, but she didn't question him either. Nodding once, she left the office, closing the door behind her. He'd known already of the meeting at Rikers, spoken to her over the phone, but he liked getting reports in person, even if it meant a repeat of the same information.

Holding down a button on his desk phone, Fisk waited twenty seconds before the quick pair of knocks on his door. Phillips strode in a moment later. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"What's happening, Mr. Phillips?"

The smaller man fidgeted almost imperceptibly. "We're still looking, sir. The word's out, everyone's aware of-"

"Has Cromwell checked in yet?"

"Not today, sir."

"Have someone call him, make sure he's doing his job."

"Understood."

"Any leads on the girl?"

"Not at this time."

"Maya shouldn't hear about that."

"Of course not."

"Philips."

"Sir?"

"Make sure you're doing your job as well."

Phillips started to sweat. "Understood, Mr. Fisk."

* * *

Holding the balcony rail in a white-knuckle grip, Elektra listened to Garrett's footsteps as he joined her in the cool night air. "How long are you going to do this?" he asked.

Elektra gripped the rail tighter.

"Here," he said, offering her a beer.

The action made her think of standing on Mark's porch. Christmas. Wine she hadn't wanted. It pained her to realize how long it'd been since she thought of him, really thought of him. She ignored the beer.

Garrett set the drink aside, popping open his own bottle. "Some things never change."

"No. Four years later and you're still an alcoholic."

"Functioning alcoholic, the best kind."

"Sorry about the hand," she declared grudgingly, noting the awkward angle at which he was holding it. His fingers trembled minutely.

Garrett's eyebrows climbed to his hairline. "You're apologizing? Maybe you have mellowed out."

"Hardly."

"But you admit it wasn't necessary."

"You should've told me."

"I did," he replied, indicating the cut on his cheek. "Lot of good it did me."

"All of it, you should've told me all of it."

"Why?" he asked casually.

"You know why."

"I know I wasn't going to tell you a damn thing while you had a knife on you, which cuts my window of opportunity to what, ten minutes a day?"

"Looks who's talking," Elektra muttered, nodding at the gun in Garrett's waistband.

"Too cautious is-"

"Say it one more time and I'll throw you off the balcony," Elektra snapped.

Shrugging, he sipped his drink, enjoying the view. Elektra meanwhile cursed her loss of control with Garrett. And Garrett himself. And life in general.

God fucking dammit.

"_Get in here."_

_She did, noting the look in his eyes and the set of his jaw. She followed him to his bedroom, sealed them in, watched as he set his computer on the dresser. "Well?"_

_Grimacing, he reopened the laptop. Elektra recognized the page from before, the one he'd used to get info on Fisk's adopted daughter. A small video screen was open, the cursor hovering over 'play.'_

"_I didn't think you'd want me to do this in front of the kid."_

"_Just show me."_

_Garrett started the video. It was security footage from an airport checkpoint. Speeding through a few minutes of tape, he paused, zoomed in, and brought it back to normal speed. Three seconds later Elektra's heart stopped beating._

_Bullseye._

_Alive._

_God _fucking _dammit._

"_Where's this from?"_

_Garrett paused. "JFK."_

_Elektra read the time stamp. Last year, August of last year. While she, Abby, and Matt were sunbathing on her father's estate, Bullseye was at JFK International. Queens. He was in Queens when he was supposed to be dead._

_She turned to Garrett. "What is this?" she demanded, gesturing towards the screen._

"_Isn't that self-explanatory?"_

"_The page, what is it?" There was no logo, no headings, not much of anything. "How did you access it?"_

_Garrett looked uncomfortable, ran a hand through his short dark hair. "It's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database."_

_S.H.I.E.L.D.. Government agency. Unknown to most people. She'd heard things about it, from McCabe mostly. He didn't have a clue what they did. Covert ops, off the books, that's all he knew. "How did you access this?" Elektra asked again._

_He shrugged, favored her with what was meant to be a cocky smile. "Took a few computer courses down at the community college. Learned how to do this _and _post YouTube videos_

"_Tell me the truth."_

"_For God's sake…"_

"_You were drunk in Barcelona, told me how much you hated hackers. You said they didn't have the balls to do real work."_

"_I was hammered; some pale-faced asshole in Kansas tried busting into my bank account the week before."_

"_Garrett."_

"_I worked with them for awhile. Before the old man. I know some backdoors in the system."_

_S.H.I.E.L.D. Government. Authorities. "Slip your mind to tell me this?"_

"_You didn't ask."_

_Idiot. He sounded like a two-year old. "You still have contacts with them?"_

"_We didn't part on good terms."_

_She pictured an ambush. FBI agents, cops, S.H.I.E.L.D. There'd be gunfire. Maybe it'd take place in a motel parking lot. "Why would they care about him?"_

_Garrett looked at a spot over her head, fingers drumming on his pant leg. "Because he's their project. _Was _their project. They had a program, scrapped now but…"_

"_Talk_

"_They took him from the morgue, used drugs that aren't legal, made him breathe again. They rebuilt his body."_

"_Why? Why the _hell _would they do that?"_

"_They weren't supposed to do it at all. Big government operation, stupid people, things happen behind closed doors. Couldn't do it above board so they took another route."_

"_They used a known assassin in an experiment to bring back the dead?"_

"_They thought he could be controlled, they thought they could bring him to their side."_

_Controlled. Brainwashed. Like Matt. "No," Elektra muttered to herself. "No."_

"_People are stupid, E. Those HR guys at S.H.I.E.L.D hired me, what does that say about their screening techniques?"_

"_How long did you know about this?"_

_Garrett rolled his eyes. "Three minutes give or take? I skim their files sometimes, professional curiosity. Saw the bios of the test subjects, told you."_

"_Subjects? More than one?"_

"_He's the only one they succeeded with."_

_He would be the one it worked on. And he would be the one to break out of whatever government facility they had him in. She felt like hitting something. Or stabbing right through the target on Bullseye's forehead._

_God dammit to hell._

"_I get it, okay? I know."_

_That set her off. Everyone said that about everything. 'I know how you feel, I understand.' Matt said that at her father's funeral. Granted he'd been telling the truth, but that was the exception to the rule. Garrett who worked for the government, Garrett who…he had no idea._

"_You don't 'get' anything," Elektra snarled._

"_I know what he did, to you and Abby."_

_Mark dead, Abby sobbing uncontrollably, blaming herself. Abby not breathing, poisoned by a dart from that sadistic thing.. "You don't know anything, you understand? Nothing."_

_She couldn't listen to him anymore. She left. He followed. Followed with his government contacts and his so-called understanding._

"_Ease up."_

"_Fuck you."_

"_This won't help."_

Things continued to go downhill from there.

"Stick told you about Abby?"

"Yeah," Garrett replied carefully.

"Why talk to him?"

"He's a good conversationalist?"

"You didn't end on good terms with him either."

"Yet unlike you, I have the ability to be civil when I need to."

"Were you looking for him?"

"It's a small world."

"You just ran into him and started chatting about ancient prophecies?"

Garrett smiled dismissively. "You know how much he likes the topic."

She'd told Abby Garrett wasn't a liar because four years ago he hadn't seemed like one, but things changed in four years. More than that, they'd never done much talking anyway. His non-answers and placating smiles weren't sitting well with her. He said he'd called the girlfriend yesterday. No proof though, no proof he hadn't called someone else.

The glass door opened before she could go any further. Abby joined them, having spent the last hour in Garrett's bathroom. Elektra studied her, searched for anger, tears, something. The teen looked remarkably calm. "You guys are done beating on each other right?"

She sounded remarkably calm too. "Abby," Elektra began softly.

"Can we talk?"

Elektra blinked. That wasn't directed at her, the teen was asking Garrett. He nodded, surprised but receptive. Elektra fought off a sudden bout of nausea.

* * *

Shoved roughly into his cell, Matt winced as his face hit the wall.

"You gotta stop making trouble, Murdock. Because trouble for you means trouble for me." Martinez tapped his nightstick while Desmond stood watch. He was snickering again, amused by the dinner antics.

Bruised and bloodied, Matt scowled at the guards, longing for his own weapon. "When someone attacks me, I do what I have to do. Sorry if that causes problems."

Martinez blew out air through his teeth. "Can't you stand in a food line without pissing somebody off?"

"Not when they come at me with a piece of glass."

"What is this, the third time you've started something with another inmate?"

"Third time they've started something with me, yes."

Desmond continued to snicker. His breath smelled like onions and Doritos. "How the fuck would you know if someone was coming at you?" Desmond joined his colleague in the cell, circling Matt in a bad vulture imitation.

The lawyer glared. "You'd be surprised."

"Frank," Martinez said warningly."

"What?" Desmond spat. "What the fuck is he gonna do?" The guard whipped out his own nightstick, aiming for Matt's stomach.

The blind man caught it, yanked it from Desmond's grasp, and proceeded to smash his face with it. He hadn't gone out as Daredevil in months, too afraid that he wasn't ready, that the programming would kick in at the wrong time and he'd end up killing somebody.

It felt good to hit someone again.

Two days of getting jumped by the garbage he'd help put away while the guards twiddled their thumbs and took bets on the outcome had finally gotten to him. It'd be one more charge on his rap sheet, but he didn't care. Desmond and his colleagues might be getting a little bonus in their paychecks courtesy of Wilson Fisk. They might be getting paid to make his life difficult, they might not be. They could be weak idiots who liked abusing their power. Matt didn't care either way. He'd held back, pulled punches, taken blows he could've blocked. No more. He'd gotten enough beatings from The Hand, he was done now. He was tired and frustrated and no longer in the mood for this. Desmond groaned and started to get up while Martinez charged forward, yelling expletives in Spanish.

Matt smirked devilishly as he held up the nightstick.

* * *

"No."

"Elektra, it's okay, it really is."

Why was Abby so level-headed when she was halfway to breaking? She remembered the impulsive kid she'd fought twice at The Compound and wondered when they'd switched roles. When had the sixteen year-old learned emotional control that was better than hers at the moment?

"E," Garrett said from his spot at the counter. "She's not wrong."

"Stay out of it."

"You always say I should learn everything I can. Best defense is a good offense, especially now."

"No," Elektra repeated.

There was a flash of anger in the teen's eyes. She was going to blow up, say how unfair it all was. She didn't. The neutral expression returned and Abby drew herself up to her full height. When had she gotten so tall? Without a word, Abby headed for the balcony.

"What are you doing?" Elektra asked.

"Leaving so you guys can fight it out." To Garrett, "She won't listen to me, think you can do better?"

"Not without bodily harm," Garrett replied.

Abby nodded in acknowledgement. "Just try okay? She doesn't think you're a child."

"No, she thinks I'm a lot worse."

"Give it a shot anyway. Please." Abby gave him a tired half-smile, then left them alone.

Sighing Garrett leaned forward on his stool. "She's right."

"And your opinion should matter to me?"

"What gets to you more, the fact that she's standing up to you or the fact that she asked me for help?"

"Having you fight her battles isn't standing up to me."

"What else is she supposed to do? You do treat her like a child."

"Because she is one."

"She wants to learn, I'm better qualified than you."

"You're not putting a gun in her hand. Bullseye, she doesn't think clearly with him, she can't."

"And you can? Abby's not the one that flew off the handle tonight."

Elektra shook her head. "This isn't your decision."

"Not yours either."

"She's my responsibility."

"So you plan on protecting her from everything yourself? Doing a great job so far, that must be why she died a few years ago."

"Go to hell."

"You want her to be prepared, you want her safe. What happens when she picks up a Glock and accidentally blows her brains out?"

"That's not funny."

"Wasn't meant to be. No one's talking about turning her into a sniper, just the basics, just in case. Worse comes to worst, she knows how to use the thing and it saves her life. Why are you so against that?"

Elektra breathed deeply, stared at the girl waiting on the balcony.

God _fucking _dammit. "Tomorrow, no drinking. Show her what you can."

"All right."

"You don't do anything unless I'm in the room," Elektra said threateningly.

"Okay." A beat of silence. "Where are you going, after Marty gets the paperwork through?"

Elektra said nothing.

"You breaking him out?"

"What?"

"Murdock."

"Don't go there."

"Simple question."

"Simple answer, drop it."

Garrett nodded amiably. "You love him."

No answer. Elektra had problems saying that to Matt, never mind Garrett Pierce.

"I knew there was someone, even back then," he mused. "You never looked at me when we were together, you always saw him." No sadness, a statement of fact.

"We weren't together."

"Okay, when we screwed around you were always picturing him."

"Is this leading anywhere?"

"Are you going to get him out?"

She stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Rikers doesn't skimp on security."

"No."

"And you're going in there with every cop and bounty hunter in three states looking for you?"

Silence.

"No plan, no package from McCabe giving you all the details?"

"Obviously not."

"And you don't see that as…" he waved a hand vaguely, "potentially problematic?"

"Not for you."

"I paid a small fortune to get you set up, hate to have my investment go down the tubes because you got yourself dead again."

"Don't underestimate me."

"At the risk of massive blood loss, you're not here. You're upset, you're not thinking, and you're gonna make a mistake."

She looked away, hated herself for doing it. "What did Stick tell you about Kimagure?"

Garrett shrugged, thrown off by the subject change. "I usually skipped that class if you remember right."

"Meaning you don't know anything."

"I'd think you'd be the expert on that."

"The visions, did he tell you if they were set in stone?"

"Christ Elektra, I don't know. You use it; do they all happen for you?"

_Yes. _"No."

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't."

"You have a vision of the winning lottery numbers?"

"Don't, okay?"

Garrett held up his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say."

She looked at him suspiciously. "But?"

"No but, whatever you say."

"Garrett."

He smirked, excitement showing on his face. "Things have been slow lately, damn lousy economy."

"You're bored."

"Extremely."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

Garrett snorted. "Not where I was going."

"Then get to the point."

He grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "Breaking _into_ a high security jail instead of out. Might be a fun change of pace."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Okay readers, here's the deal: It's nearing 7:00 in the morning and I've literally been up all night. As such, this chapter received what has to be the worst editing job I've ever done, so please forgive any errors. Please review so I'll have something to read when I wake up around 1:00 this afternoon. Hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

"She's a quick study," Garrett remarked.

Elektra shot him an irritated glance, shifting her attention back to her weapons. Abby was the tipping point in the war with The Hand, did he really expect her to be a slow learner?

"She's got better aim than the guys I trained under." He sat across from her on the floor, loading an AK-47. The floor space between them was again filled by firearms and knives.

Elektra held the handle tighter. "How much time do we have?"

"About an hour."

"You're sure he'll come through?"

"You asking me for a guarantee?"

"I'm asking you if he'll do his job."

Garrett blew air through his teeth, cleared the chamber of a semiautomatic handgun. "I don't think he'd sell you out."

"You don't _think_?"

"He's a capitalist E, just like the rest of us. Capitalists like money."

"Which Fisk has plenty of."

"Still, however high that bounty is I doubt its high enough. Marty's got no spine; he probably won't try to collect."

"Probably," Elektra repeated, eyes turning to slits.

"He's scared of me, he's terrified of you, what do you want me to say?" He paused, put down the gun. "If things go bad you can take it out on me."

As if she wouldn't have anyway, as if she needed his permission. "You'd better hope things don't go bad then."

"Yeah, you'll maim, you'll castrate, you'll kill. Same threat different year," he replied flippantly.

Elektra glared.

"You still being stubborn about Rikers?"

"You're not coming."

"Can you stop playing lone wolf and think about this?"

"I have thought about it. Extensively. None of those thoughts included you."

"Maximum security, Elektra, they might be expecting you. It's not a one person job."

"It was when Bullseye did it."

"You're not him."

"You're right, I'm better."

"Wasn't it you ranting about arrogance the other day? They've beefed up security since Target Man broke out." Climbing to his feet, Garrett crossed to the kitchen, pulling a thin sheaf of paper from one of the drawers. Dropping it in front of her, he reclaimed his spot, picking up an Uzi from the gun pile.

Skimming the documents, Elektra saw blueprints, very detailed blueprints of Rikers. She wondered when he'd printed them out.

"You're welcome."

Elektra focused on the jail's floor plans, didn't look at him. "Find a different way to amuse yourself."

"It's not about that, not for the most part."

"You said you were bored."

"I am, that's not the motivating factor."

Now she met his eyes. "Then what? You want me to owe you, you want something over me? What?"

"I'd heard you'd gotten less cynical. Obviously Stick got that wrong."

Something niggled at the back of her mind. "When did you see him last?"

Garrett blinked, shoved a round into his gun. "Awhile ago."

Not an answer. "How long between when you saw him last and when you went to the camp?" _And found everyone dead_ was a silent tag to the question.

He rolled his eyes, picked up a shotgun. "Couple months. What are you getting at?"

"Nothing," Elektra replied tersely. He probably read that like an evasion, but that was wrong. _She_ didn't know what she was getting at, not really. It was a feeling, an instinct.

The kind that'd saved her life more than once.

He let it drop with a shrug. Too easily for her peace of mind. "I want to help you; you wanted me to help you."

"Not with this."

"In for a penny…"

"Just tell me why."

"You won't like it."

"I don't like most of what comes out of your mouth."

He began disassembling the shotgun. "Maybe I care."

Oh dammit. "Maybe you shouldn't."

"You don't think McCabe did? He died for you."

"I wasn't the main target."

"He protected them because of you."

Elektra didn't have a response. She sharpened another knife.

"It's not sentimentality; I'm not making a love declaration."

"Good, I've got enough to deal with."

"And yet you insist on doing it alone."

"It's worked so far."

"You're deluding yourself."

Elektra scowled, not willing to take the bait.

He kept talking. "If it's worked so well for you, then what's with the kid, what's with Murdock?"

"Don't go there. You don't get to talk to me about them."

"Maybe I do."

She examined the sai in her hand, considered how easy it would be to embed it in Garrett's heart. "I shouldn't have come to you."

"You shouldn't be staging a jailbreak on your own."

"Clean your guns and shut up."

"I told you, you weren't going to like it."

"You were right, congratulations."

"Maximum security, Elektra."

"I've made it into worse."

"Not recently."

"Stop."

"You've been out of the life a long time."

"And I spend more time training than you do drinking," Elektra replied, twirling the sword for emphasis.

"It's not the same and you know it."

"What I know is that this isn't your problem."

"You've made it my problem."

"More of you caring?"

"Maybe."

"Then do us both a favor, turn it off."

He stopped working on the shotgun, gave her an appraising look. Wordlessly, he stood again, moving towards the bar. Then he wasn't moving towards the bar anymore. Half a second later she felt the gun press against her head, one of his arms going around her throat.

She reacted instantly, intending to plunge her weapon into a major artery. She could have him bleeding out before his finger touched the trigger. She stopped herself at the last moment, unsure why she bothered. "Three seconds," Elektra growled.

Pressure on her skull. "You're deluding yourself about this too. Four years ago I never would've gotten this close. If you're not out of practice then it's something else. Stress, fatigue, maybe whatever crap you've been through is finally catching up with you. I don't know, you won't tell me, and frankly I don't care, not about the specifics. You screw up the end result's the same. So take the problem and fix it before it turns into a bigger one."

He released her, took the gun away. She watched him place it back in his waistband. "Garrett."

He waved a hand, dismissing whatever she had to say, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"You won't do that again."

Garrett raised the bottle in a mock toast. "Maim, castrate, kill. Same threat different year."

* * *

Abby wrinkled her nose as they pulled into Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino. "That guy's such a joke."

"Nah," Garrett refuted. "It's the hairpiece that's a joke."

"Bad joke," the teen nodded.

"Marty like the food here too?" Elektra asked sardonically.

"Nope, just the bar."

"Is that him or you?"

"Functioning alcoholic, E. Didn't we have this discussion already?"

"You want to trash your liver that's your business, but not an hour before a business meeting. Not when it involves me," Elektra snapped. After raising the Miller to her at his apartment, he'd slammed down three more in a fifteen minute period.

Garrett twisted around in the passenger seat, smirking at Abby. "Does she nag Murdock this much?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"Abby," the older woman hissed.

"Christ," Garrett mumbled. "You sure about Rikers? Because living with her he might be worse than prison grub and male rape threats."

"We're going," Elektra barked, reaching for the door handle.

"Not yet," Garrett replied. He pulled out the gun from yesterday, handing it to Abby. The girl took it with confident ease. Her guardian twitched, unnoticed by the other two.

"I still don't get why I can't come in," Abby groused.

"Same drill as before," Garrett replied, tossing her the truck's spare key. "You get to be the getaway driver. Driver's required to be in the vehicle."

"Hence the reason I sit in the parking lot while you guys do all the good stuff Anyway, getaway driver is only fun if we need to make a getaway, which probably won't happen because that would actually make my life interesting."

Elektra glared at her protégé, then shifted her eyes to Garrett. He took the hint, climbing out of the truck and walking briskly towards the lavish hotel. She followed a moment later, hoping against hope that things got no more 'interesting' than they already were.

* * *

In the suite, Elektra studied the ID's and passports while Garrett leaned casually against the far wall.

"They up to your standards?" he asked, cracking the fingers of the hand she'd injured.

"They're good," she replied after a final moment's scrutiny.

"Of course they are, why wouldn't they be? You said you wanted the best so I got the best. Not that I wouldn't have gotten the best if you hadn't…asked…me…to." He trailed off at the looks on his customer's faces. Garrett was trying hard not to laugh, Elektra glared with obvious disdain.

Marty was short, bald, and thirty pounds overweight, a situation no doubt caused by his frequenting of hotel buffets. Sweating profusely, he stood as far away from Elektra as he could manage. "So…you're happy right? You're happy, I'm happy, we 're all happy?"

"She hasn't been happy since the Nixon administration," Garrett declared.

Ignoring the comment, Elektra pocketed the identifications, staring pointedly at Garrett. Sighing dramatically, he stood up straight, handing Marty a stack of bills in a rubber band. "What's happened to my life? She refuses to put out and I still wind up paying for everything."

Elektra didn't wait for Marty to count out the other half of his payment. She was in the lobby by the time Garrett caught up with her. "That went well," he remarked. "I mean besides the fact that my wallet is screaming in pain right now."

"He was nervous."

"You think? With what you said to him yesterday I'm surprised he didn't piss all over the carpet."

"Could've been more than that."

"Do you see any cops, any steroid-crazed goons?" He waved expansively at the darkened parking lot surrounding them. "He didn't call Fisk, he didn't call the boys in blue. Now relax before your face gets stuck that way."

She continued to scowl at him as they reentered the truck. Abby perked up at their arrival. "Everything cool?"

"You kidding? Everything's ice cold when it comes to her."

"Can you go five minutes without hearing your own voice?" Elektra asked scathingly. To Abby, "Give me that. Now."

Abby passed her the gun without comment. Garrett snatched it from Elektra's grasp, stashing it back under the seat. Pulling into traffic, Elektra saw that Abby wasn't belted in. "Seatbelt."

Abby shot her an irritated look, but complied nonetheless. Garrett was smirking again. "You pack lunches too? Go to PTA meetings? What happens on Bring Your Kid to Work Day?"

He was taunting her, but there was no real bite to it. Elektra didn't care. Noting that his seatbelt was off too, she made a hard right turn. Grabbing the door for balance, Garrett winced as the bones in his hand cracked painfully. She knew he'd aggravated the injury during those hours at the shooting range today.

"Bitch," he muttered, though there was no bite to that either. Elektra didn't respond, her point already made

It was half past midnight as they drove along the Atlantic City streets and, though she tried valiantly to hide it, Abby was falling asleep in the backseat. Elektra doubted the girl had slept much since all this started, probably running more on adrenaline than anything else. While Elektra waited out a red light, Abby jerked violently, wide awake.

"We can't go back to your apartment," she declared urgently.

"What?" Garrett asked, squinting at her in the rearview mirror. "What are you talking about?"

"What did you see?" Elektra asked, fully aware of what must've happened.

"The whole building is covered with cops."

Garrett shook his head. "Kimagure?"

"Yes," Elektra replied tightly, though she wasn't sure who he'd been asking. She continued driving towards Garrett's building.

"What are you doing? I just told you-"

"You saw Matt months before he attacked you." She said the words calmly enough, even as they left a rotten taste in her mouth. "We don't know how soon this is happening."

"Yeah we do, it's happening right now!"

"And you know this because…?"

"I just do okay? Gut feeling."

"Yeah well, your gut feeling doesn't cut it for me," Garrett said.

"Screw you. If they see us there-"

"They won't," Elektra cut in. She made the turn on to Garrett's street, eyes narrowing at the red and blue lights flashing everywhere. Abby was right, the place was swarming with police.

"Sonuvabitch," Garrett muttered.

Angry green eyes flew to his. "So much for reliability."

"Marty's not like that. He doesn't deal with cops."

"Then what are they doing here?"

"I don't know, Elektra", he replied, matching her anger. "Goddammit. My computer, my files…"

"We're not going in there."

"I know that for God's sake," he snapped, glaring as she drove away from the building. "He's not a snitch. Greedy maybe, but he'd go to Fisk for that."

"Then they got you for something else."

"I doubt it."

"Why? Because you've been so careful?" Elektra shot back, remembering their argument about staying below the radar.

"Don't start on me with that. Turn at the next street."

"Why?"

"Because it's my truck and I'm telling you to turn at the next street."

Elektra saw the look on his face, recognized what it meant. "Garrett."

"You don't like it, get out and walk."

She considered it, seriously considered it. But no, she didn't have the resources for that. Marty had supplied them with ID's (now too risky to use) but not cash. The small amount from the stolen wallets was nearly gone, and her stash from the apartment wouldn't cover anything useful.

Elektra drove back to the hotel without comment. When Garrett got out, she made to follow.

"Don't, this is my business."

She stared at him. Hard. Was it necessary? No, she decided. Her distrust of him didn't extend that far. She let him go,

Abby fidgeted in the backseat, but remained silent. Garrett returned five minutes later, specks of blood barely visible on his dark leather jacket. Elektra knew there was one less bullet in his revolver. She wondered idly how long it would take for someone to find Marty's body in the hotel suite.

* * *

Elektra scowled as she paced the small motel room. At least they still had the weapons. Abby had thought it overly paranoid to bring everything, including the majority of the guns, to what should've been a half-hour outing.

"What now?" the girl asked tentatively. She sat perched on one of the two beds, scratching at her left hand.

Elektra said nothing, pinning Garrett with what Abby lovingly referred to as 'The Look of Bloody Murder.' When he didn't react, merely stared at her from his place by the window, she made herself answer the question. "I get Matt, we go from there."

"That's not very big on details," Abby said dubiously.

"E," Garrett said at the same time.

She rounded on him. "You don't get a say here. You couldn't handle the one thing I asked you for."

"If Marty blew the whistle, why didn't they ambush us at the meet? Huh? Did you bother to think about that?"

She had, but didn't say so. "I'm wasting time here; we're no better off than we were before."

"And you're no worse either. You know the jail is risky."

"So are a lot of things."

"We could make it hard for them to realize he's gone. Get both of you lost in the shuffle."

"Subtle, you want to start a riot."

"I've got some things in a safehouse a few hours out. We could blow the eastern wall open."

She couldn't tell if he was joking, he'd always had an odd sense of humor. "No thanks."

"Fine, let me turn the lights out for you, the security cameras."

Elektra stopped pacing. "You couldn't do that."

"Told you, took some computer classes."

"You hate hackers."

"I hate people who cut me off in traffic, doesn't mean I don't do the same."

"Why the sudden interest in technology?"

"It's where the money is, E, and I'm a capitalist. Give me until tomorrow night to get a new computer, the right equipment."

"No, I've waited long enough."

"He's not going anywhere."

"Not what I'm worried about."

"Matt can take care of himself," Abby spoke up. "He'll be okay one more day."

Elektra shook her head. "He's a lawyer locked in with over a thousand felons."

"He's locked in with guys he could take one-handed. You're freaking out over the wrong things."

Elektra didn't reply, mind already made up.

Abby glared, standing up to her full height. "Let him help. If I can sit still one more day so can you."

"I don't need his help," Elektra stated, knowing full well that it was a lie. She needed his money at the very least, probably more than that.

"Don't be stupid."

Elektra blinked at the venom in her tone. Such an obvious show of disrespect was rare, and she felt her anger rising. "Have you been talking to him?" she demanded, pointing her chin in Garrett's direction.

"No, I'm just telling you it's a bad idea."

"Based on what?"

"Based on the fact that you have no plan and you're tired and you're angry."

"We've been over this before; I can take care of myself too."

"Well I'm sorry if I don't want to see you dead with your spine sticking out. And Dad...he got to bleed out while Bullseye went around looking for me. You don't want to bury Matt, I don't want to bury you, so just hold off okay?"

The room went silent. Elektra's mouth dropped open. She'd told Abby about her death, but not the details, no reason to rehash the gory specifics. As for Mark…there was no way, she hadn't been there. Unless one of Stick's men told her, one who'd been sent to the house, but why…?

Abby shrank away from her, looking infinitely younger. She bit her lip as if in punishment for letting the words out. She met Elektra's gaze with false bravado, but the heat of the argument was gone and Abby knew it. "It's…sometimes the flashes, the visions or whatever , they're not…they're not the future. Sometimes."

"You see the past? Things that aren't even yours?" Garrett's eyes were sharp, incredulous. Elektra had forgotten he was there.

"Sometimes," Abby repeated. "Stick tried to help me with it but…apparently I still have the attention span of a two-month-old so…"

"You saw your father' die," Elektra said slowly.

"Not on purpose."

"You saw Bullseye," she faltered, swallowed hard. "You saw that."

"Not on purpose."

"Anything else?"

"Not really. Just…sometimes with Matt. Not what he did, what they did to him, some of the stuff they did to hurt him."

The older woman blinked, tried to form the words. "When did this start?"

Abby lifted one shoulder. "While we were hiding, while Matt was gone."

"You told Stick."

"Yes," Abby said quietly.

"You didn't tell me."

"You couldn't have done anything. It's not a big deal, doesn't happen very often anyway.

Not a big deal. Not a big deal. Abby had essentially witnessed her father's murder, the one small thing Elektra thought she'd been spared of. And Elektra's own death at the same man's hands, Abby had a front row seat for that too. Not a big deal.

"Look, we've got bigger issues right now remember? Just…wait the extra day. It might make a difference. Please?"

Elektra wanted to respond to Abby's request—plea—but she found talking to be impossible just then.

Goddammit.

* * *

_He killed the two guards without thought, without difficulty. He couldn't have done that before. The Hand had helped him, made him better, stronger. He leapt to the opposite rooftop, leaving Stick's men where they lay._

_Elektra would hate him, kill him after this. Much as she loved him, she loved the girl more._

_No, that wasn't right. She didn't love him, never had. He loved her though, so he'd have to kill her. She'd told him once about resurrecting Abby, just the one time because she couldn't bear to talk about it more than that. She had nightmares, bad nightmares about Abby cold and lifeless, not listening to her, not coming back the way she had in reality. Elektra couldn't live without her._

_After he killed the girl, he'd kill Elektra, but not just because he had to. He'd do her a favor, be merciful, make it so she wouldn't have to live without Abby._

He came awake with a start, amazed that he'd fallen asleep at all. Solitary confinement was his punishment for Desmond and Martinez, but Matt couldn't care less where he was. It was still too loud, smelled too bad either way.

God, he'd almost killed them, he'd really almost killed them.

The noise kept him from sinking too deep into his tortured excuse for a mind. He was used to the noises here by now, but this wasn't the same. There was fighting, definite sounds of a struggle, guards yelling about backup and intruders, then the guards stopped yelling. His fellow inmates screamed, chanted. Not in terror but…

Footsteps. Light, agile, coming in his direction The door to his cell swung open.

Breathing. Controlled breathing. Like the lawyer Fisk sent. She must've learned how to control her vitals, trick her body into thinking she was telling the truth. This wasn't her though, this was a male.

"Up we go."

Late twenties to early thirties. Controlled urgency in his voice. Was there a hint of an accent or was he imagining that?

"Are you deaf too? We need to go, now."

Anger, or frustration in his voice. What was this? "Who are you?"

"You're a lawyer right? Well have your deposition period later. Let's go."

Confused to the extreme, Matt stood up, followed the outline of his unknown savior. Whoever this was, he was offering an out, an escape. And he was right; questions could wait 'til later.

* * *

"So…" Abby drawled, "What's your deal?"

Biting into a greasy breakfast sandwich, Garrett stared at her from the other side of the booth. "Deal?"

"Yeah, you and Elektra, what is that?"

She wanted to ask about him in general, but decided not to probe that far. He and Elektra both seemed to agree that this Marty guy may or may not have brought the authorities down on them, yet she was pretty sure Marty was dead, meaning Garrett killed him for something he may or may not have done. Probably hadn't done actually. So these were the kinds of people Elektra used to hang out with? Yeah, Abby really didn't want to probe that far.

Garrett laughed humorlessly while she took a bite of flavorless pancakes. "No deal. We met at Stick's camp, nothing happened. She got kicked out, we'd run into each other occasionally after that."

"And you? How'd you end up there to begin with?"

"I drifted around before that, worked for different people, did different things. Stick found me, told me how the grandfather I never met did great things fighting this ancient war with good and evil, yin and yang, all that stuff. He seemed to think I had untapped potential."

"So what happened?" Abby wondered, taking a sip of orange juice.

"I proved him wrong about the potential thing. After Elektra, I figured I was next so I saved him the trouble."

Abby nodded. 'You can't fire me, I quit!' seemed to be the gist of it. Garrett flagged down the waitress, asked for a refill on his coffee, and promptly started to guzzle the piping hot liquid.

It was just after six in the morning. The diner across from their motel served crappy food at crappier prices, but Garrett was footing the bill so she didn't worry much about the second part. Sighing, Abby poked listlessly at her runny eggs. By some defiance of logic, they were even worse than Elektra's.

Elektra. There was a screw-up on her part. She'd lost control, started wondering what would happen if things went wrong at the jail, which had inevitably led to that lovely image of the older woman impaled by her own sai, which had inevitably led to Abby spilling her guts.

Yeah, major screw-up. Elektra could barely look at her now.

Garrett frowned, glanced at his watch. "Didn't she say ten minutes?"

The teen blinked, coming out of her own head. "Yeah, why?"

"It's been twenty-five."

Abby frowned too. They'd left Elektra in the room after she'd declined Garrett's food offer. Abby was surprised her guardian would leave her alone with the man until she realized Elektra probably needed time to process, time away from her.

Elektra did the guilt thing almost as good as Matt, and she tended to blame herself for everything that went wrong in Abby's life. That, and she was probably fuming about Abby not telling her. And probably wondering why her protégé wasn't a total basket case yet with all these visions of death happening more often than a sitcom rerun.

Truth be told, Abby wondered about that herself sometimes. Was she a mental case? On the verge of becoming one? Was she a hop skip and a jump from turning into Typhoid Mary? Best not go there.

Whatever the case, Elektra had promised to join them in ten minutes, right after she took a shower. That was twenty-six minutes ago.

"She still obsessive with punctuality?" Garrett asked.

"She's still obsessive with a lot of things," Abby replied.

He nodded curtly, throwing random bills on the table as he got up. "Stay here," he ordered.

"Yeah, let's see how that works," Abby muttered, hot on his heels.

They crossed the street quickly, Garrett pulling out his gun as they approached the room door. "Hang on," he said, and for some reason Abby listened, backing off slightly.

Gun at the ready, Garrett twisted the doorknob. Abby was mildly surprised when it opened. There was a pause, a barely discernible pause, as Garrett stood on the threshold, blocking her view of the interior. Then he was running, panic rising off him as he flew into the room.

"Jesus. No, no, no, goddammit no!"

Panicking herself, Abby followed him inside. The sight before her caused her to freeze on the spot, unable to breathe.


	10. Chapter 10

She saw the blood first, a harsh contrast to the light blue carpet. She'd never seen that much blood, not even when her father was killed. Garrett was instantly covered in it, crimson soaking his shirt and pants and shoes as he dropped down next to Elektra. Cursing wildly, he shifted her so that she was half-lying on top of him instead of facedown in her own blood.

Forcing herself to move, Abby joined him on the floor, eyes roaming over her guardian's prone body. Elektra's hair was damp from the shower, her complexion a disturbing shade of white Abby hadn't seen since the incident with Typhoid Mary in the forest. She'd dressed in a black top and jeans, but the bullet hole just below her collarbone was clearly visible.

"E," Garrett said fiercely, panic fading as he searched for a pulse. "E, talk to me. Talk to me."

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and confused as she searched the room. She was breathing shallowly, beads of sweat standing out against pale skin.

"Elektra," he repeated sharply. "E, give me something here."

She mumbled something incomprehensible that turned into a cry of pain as Garrett pressed hard against the wound. Trembling, she made a weak attempt to push him away.

"No," he said firmly, keeping pressure on the area. Using his free hand, Garrett fished the cell phone from his pocket, staining it red as his bloody fingers made contact. Without looking up, he threw the phone at Abby. "Call 911."

He'd either forgotten or didn't care that she had her own phone. Until just then, Abby herself had forgotten about that. Fortunately Garrett's order broke the temporary paralysis. Ignoring the urge to gag, Abby dialed with shaking fingers.

"No," Elektra muttered, trying again to push herself up. "No hospital."

"Yes, hospital," Garrett countered, easing her down. "Relax."

"Too many questions."

"Questions can be answered."

"It's just a shoulder wound," she told him, the hint of a slur in her words.

"I know," he said glancing at the impossibly large pool of blood they were soaking in. "But we're fresh out of band-aids and you're in shock. Relax."

"I'm not in shock," Elektra replied. "It's a shoulder wound, you know how to treat a shoulder wound."

"You're arguing, good sign."

"No hospitals," she said past rapid, panting breaths.

"Okay, no hospitals if you tell me who did this," he agreed, half-listening as Abby gave the name of their motel.

She didn't answer, her eyelids drooping closed.

"E, no. Elektra, Elektra look at me. Dammit. E, hang in okay? Are you listening? Stay with me, Elektra, stay with me!"

* * *

"You're not staying?" Garrett mumbled, face buried in a pillow.

"No," Elektra replied simply.

Yawning, he rolled onto his back, balancing on muscular arms as he sat up. "What's the matter?"

She straightened her shirt, determined not to look at the condom wrapper on the floor. "I've got things to do."

He snorted, rolling the kinks from his shoulders. "What kinds of things?"

"Work things."

"Bullshit."

Emerging from the hotel bathroom, Elektra glowered in annoyance. "Excuse me?"

"Bull. Shit. We both know you're between jobs."

"Is that right?" she challenged, scanning the room carefully.

"I told you, freelance is a lousy gig. Get yourself some representation."

"Where's my hair band?"

"What?"

"Hair band, where is it?" It'd come out earlier and she'd memorized the exact spot it landed right before Garrett started fumbling with her bra. Now the damn thing wasn't there anymore.

"I could've sworn you had more than one."

"I do, I want this one."

"Maid must've taken it," he replied, clearly frustrated by her obsessive tendencies.

Lips forming a tight line, Elektra began a methodical search of the floor space.

"You're crazy, you know that right? Clinically whacked out?"

"You finish your mail-order psychology degree?"

"I charge by the hour."

"Send me a bill."

"I should. Did you have to go after Lynch?"

"Job's a job. Don't make it personal."

"You put an arrow through one of my best customers. Do you know what he was going to pay me to take out Justin Hammer?"

"Not as much as I got for taking out Lynch."

"Sadist. Why do you have to rub salt in the wound?"

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not," she conceded, coming around to his side of the bed. Where was the blasted hair band?

Reaching out, Garrett snagged her hand, encasing it in both of his. Gently, far too gently, he brushed his fingers along the scar on her palm. A phantom twinge of pain as she remembered Bullseye throwing that sai. Swallowing hard, Elektra snatched her hand away. Sex was sex, Garrett the trigger-happy drunk was Garrett the trigger-happy drunk. But when he did things like that…that was different. That was dangerous and wrong and nothing she wanted to partake in. Blinking back unwanted emotions, she bent down to retrieve the wayward band. How did it get over here without her realizing?

"How are you?"

Elektra blinked again, didn't look at him as she slid brunette hair into a ponytail. The thing she liked about Garrett was that he didn't ask questions. He was one of the only ones in the mountain training ground that didn't ask how it felt to die, or why she was so angry, or how it was that she was so far ahead of everyone else. He didn't get in her way, he didn't judge, and he didn't want to know about her life. Now his one good character trait seemed to be gone. "What?"

"You. How are you doing?"

She stared at him, waiting to see what this was all about.

"Come on E, it's gotta be tough."

"Life's tough, same as every other day"

"E."

Then it hit her. She knew what he knew, and it made her want to claw his eyes out. "How'd you find out?"

"How does anyone find out anything?"

Her immediate thought was Stick, but that wasn't right. Garrett was done there; he wouldn't go to the blind man for information.

"Internet, Elektra. Search engines. You _were_ born sometime in the last hundred years right?"

"You _Google'd _me?" It felt like a violation, which didn't make much sense considering what they'd just done

"Close. Asked Jeeves. Helpful guy."

Elektra went to the other side of the room, gathering the few items she had with her. "You shouldn't have done that.'

"There was a pattern, I needed to see why."

"What are you talking about?'

"Every year for three years, this is the only day I always see you. That's a pattern."

"Not anymore," she replied, making a beeline for the door.

"Elektra, hold on," he said, and something in his tone kept her there. Climbing to his feet, Garrett took his wallet from the nightstand, pulling out a slip of paper. In his boxers, he joined her at the door, handing her a name and phone number.

"What's this?'

"Guy I do business with. He's good, keeps the jobs coming."

"I can find my own work," she stated, handing the paper back.

"You can, but he can find it faster. Besides, we know the same people, there's less chance of you killing off my meal tickets," he replied, handing her the slip again.

She didn't fight him this time, merely glanced at the quickly scrawled contact information. _McCabe. _She'd throw it out later.

"Careful, E. You keep doing this and I'll start thinking you only want my body. When are we going to have the commitment talk?"

She exited to the hallway, slamming the door in his face. That twinge of remembered pain had somehow left her hand, travelling up to her shoulder. She ignored it, along with everything else around her, at least until she turned the next corner.

"You sure you want to be alone?"

Elektra blinked hard, waiting for him to go away. He didn't. Standing against the hallway wall, Matt stared sightlessly in her direction.

It took a moment for her brain to catch up with her eyes. When it had, Elektra walked right past him, slamming the elevator's call button. "I'm used to it."

"Tonight, really?"

"Same as every other night," she replied, shivering as he came up next to her.

"Is it? Not many people have to sit through the anniversary of their own death."

She shook her head, willing him to leave. "I wanted to spend it with you."

"You didn't," he shot back, a hint of ice in his tone.

"I know."

"You could have. It would've been easier."

"I did eventually."

Matt nodded. "Why him? Why this?"

Elektra shook her head again. Slowly, she made herself look at him. "I needed to feel something."

Matt seemed to accept that, brushing a hand lightly over her arm. Goosebumps rose there as Elektra stepped into the elevator. He stayed outside, watching the doors close on her.

* * *

Her clothes were tight and sticky, caked with blood. The smell of it warred with the smell of the hospital. "What are we going to say?"

"Something. We'll say something."

The waiting room was empty save for them. Garrett's hands kept drifting towards the hidden revolver while his eyes shifted over their environment.

"That's not very big on details," Abby replied, a repeat of what she'd told Elektra. God this was all so wrong. "It was just a shoulder wound," Abby continued. In the movies, people with shoulder wounds slapped on a few bandages and continued throwing punches and dodging landmines until the credits rolled.

"Subclavian artery."

"What?"

"Subclavian artery and vein. Run right over where the hole was."

Abby shivered, digging her nails into the uncomfortable plastic chair. Garrett spared her a glance, then completely ignored her when he saw a blonde in a white coat coming their way. Raising a finger to his lips, he stood to meet the doctor.

* * *

Mark sipped quietly from his coffee mug, his expression tired and miserable. Intending to walk right past him, Elektra couldn't bring herself to do it. Taking a seat across from him, she wondered what exactly she planned to say. Luckily Mark solved the problem for her.

"This isn't what I wanted for her, this life," he said, gesturing around McCabe's kitchen.

"It's not your fault," Elektra replied awkwardly. Heart-to-hearts weren't her forte, but after that kiss on the porch, knowing that Mark was aware of what she'd planned on doing…she owed him something. Something more than this, more than a stilted conversation in a stranger's house, but that's all she had to give.

Mark was silent for a minute. "She thinks she'll die," he said flatly. "She doesn't think I can protect her."

"You've done a good job so far." She doubted that he realized just how amazing that was, how unbelievable that he'd been able to hide from Roshi's organization for _any _length of time.

"It's not enough. It's never enough."

"Mark…"

"You don't think we'll make it either."

She opened her mouth, closed it. She couldn't lie to him, not convincingly.

"She's all I have now, ever since her mother died."

His tone was still flat, but his eyes were tortured. At a loss, Elektra squeezed his arm on the table.

"If something happens…" Mark swallowed audibly. "She'll be alone."

"No. That won't happen."

Where did that come from? She couldn't say that, had no business saying that.

"She's what matters, not me."

Elektra nodded, unable to control her own reactions. This was wrong, she couldn't promise him this. And yet she was.

"Hey," Abby greeted, coming in from the living room. Elektra let go of Mark's arm, trying to not see the look of hopefulness in the girl's eyes. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing," Elektra replied calmly.

Abby looked from one to the other, mouth curving in a mischievous smile. "Right. You want to play Candy Land?"

Mark's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Elektra just sat there, mystified by the request. "Candy Land?" she repeated.

"Yeah. The game. You know." Abby frowned. "You know what a game is, right?"

"I know what Candy Land is," Elektra snapped.

"Oh. Well the McCabe guy had it in his attic, said it belonged to the people who used to live here. Want to play?"

Mark forced a smile and headed for the living room. Elektra continued to stare blankly until Abby shrugged and left her there.

Suddenly cold, Elektra rested her elbows on the table, rubbing the back of her neck. Her arm and shoulder screamed inexplicably and there was a vague feeling of discomfort over her entire body. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she assumed it was McCabe who took the chair Mark had just vacated.

"You all right?"

His voice called her back, made her remember the hotel, the anniversary. She'd slipped again. God she felt horrible. It was too hard to think like this.

"Elektra."

It was a command, soft but insistent. Raising her head, Elektra gave Matt a weary look. At the hotel he'd worn the glasses. Now his cloudy eyes were exposed to her. "What?"

He didn't answer, merely held out his hand across the table. She took it, unnerved by how shaky she was, how cold and clammy her skin felt. At least she knew what was happening now, though the knowledge wasn't terribly comforting. "Must be bad."

"Must be," he agreed, fingers dancing over her wrist.

Allowing herself a brief moment of weakness, she squeezed his hand, taking comfort in his presence. "I promised him."

"Who?"

"Mark. It was stupid."

"Was it?"

Elektra winced, both from a surge of pain and the vision of Abby shot dead in front of her. Shot, was that it, was that why they were here? Possibly. "It's not enough. It never is."

Matt stood up. She blinked and he was crouching at her side. His hand was cool against her forehead. "You're burning," he said worriedly, fingers sliding to her cheek.

Elektra resisted the urge to lean in, to be weak again. She let him map her cheekbone, but refused to enjoy it. "I'm okay."

Matt stopped his gentle ministrations, gave her an appraising look. Garrett had looked something like that right before he pressed a gun to her head and an arm over her throat.

"Yeah," Matt said. "You're okay. You always are."

She heard the reproach in his words, though it was hard to catch, barely there at all. His fingers went away and she closed her eyes as he left her alone in the kitchen, in the house full of dead people.

* * *

Garrett was right about the artery. Subclanian..subclavical…whatever the name was. The bullet nicked it, causing Elektra to lose some ridiculous percentage of blood. They were doing all they could, transfusions, other stuff Abby hadn't paid attention to.

It didn't look good.

A nurse had found her clothes from who-knew-where, clothes that weren't covered in arterial blood. She didn't find any for Garrett.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're obligated by law to report all gunshot wounds."

Towering over the petite female, Garrett looked at her with somber eyes. "I understand that Dr…?"

"Collins. Susan Collins."

"Dr. Collins. But there are circumstances here that you need to be aware of."

"Then educate me. How did this happen?"

"I don't…we weren't there."

"So I read in the report. But if you're asking me to break the law you'd better have a damn good reason for it."

"You saw the scars right? The one on her neck, her stomach?"

Collins nodded slowly. "Among others. I assume you have an explanation for those?"

"She was dating this cop awhile back."

"He did this?"

"She left, he didn't like it. The man's out of his mind, she told me he'd come after her. She told me…" He broke off, tears pouring from his eyes.

Shell-shocked and scared as she was, Abby had to admire his acting abilities.

The blonde's eyes softened, but her demeanor remained crisp and detached. "And who are you in all this?"

"I'm nobody. Friend from college, I loaned her the cash for the motel. Wanted her to stay with me but she wouldn't."

"Uh huh."

"_Listen _to me. He has friends who will cover for him. I'm sure you've heard about corruption with the police. He tried to kill her once and he will do it again."

"And how do I know it wasn't you who did this? Maybe you gave her the scars, got mad, had an accident with a gun."

Garrett took a step forward. "I wouldn't hurt her. Ever."

From the chair behind him, Abby felt a chill go through her. Shaking it off, the teen got up to stand next to Garrett. "He's not lying."

Dr. Collins looked at her, softening further. "You're her daughter?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen." That's what it said on her fake ID anyway. "She tried leaving him before, I told her to leave so many times." Abby thought of Elektra dying with Matt behind bars, thought of being totally alone. The sobs she let out were real.

Collins was wavering. Garrett was a phenomenal liar, and the sight of a terrified teenage girl only helped things. "Did he ever hurt you?"

Hesitating for a split second, Abby held out her left hand, showing the scar from when Matt had stabbed her. "He did it to Mom too, same spot."

The doctor's eyes widened. Good, she'd seen the mark on Elektra's palm. Collins started to say something but looked away when a pager buzzed on her hip. Examining the screen, she glanced quickly at the other two. "I need to go."

"What's happening?" Garrett demanded.

"You'll know when I do."

They watched in silence as she disappeared down a corridor. Abby took a half-step forward, terrified by what she'd seen in the doctor's eyes.

"No," Garrett said, catching her elbow. "We're not drawing more attention to ourselves."

"You heard how much blood she lost. What if-"

"This is tricky enough already, we have to play it right."

Abby fumed in silence for a few seconds. "Kimagure doesn't work twice."

"Not an issue. Elektra's too stubborn and pissed off to die without bitching me out one more time."

* * *

Her mother's bedroom was bright, inviting. The way it looked after Abby's resurrection. She should've been comfortable, buried in warm blankets and soft pillows. She wasn't. The shaking was uncontrollable now and she felt hot and cold at the same was surprised in some distant part of her mind to see the white nightgown she was dressed in. It wasn't hers, but it looked familiar. A larger version of the one Abby wore when she was here?

"Déjà vu all over again."

Elektra smiled lightly on seeing Matt standing by the doorframe. No glasses this time, and he was looking at her, _really _looking at her. She liked it best when he could see. "For me, not you"

He smiled too, crossing to the foot of her bed. "Sorry I missed it."

"I'm not," she replied, remembering how scared she'd been when Abby was the one lying here. "So it's bad then."

He tilted his head sideways, lips turned downward. "You tell me."

Elektra didn't answer, didn't need to. She knew how this worked by now. He always came when it was bad, when she had a close call. Last time she'd been in India somewhere, caught a potentially lethal virus. Before that, she'd taken a stab wound near the ribs.

Without warning, Elektra was seized by violent tremors. Head spinning, she pulled the blankets over herself, shutting her eyes tightly. She kept them closed as Matt joined her on the bed, spooning up next to her. His arms were strangely warm, especially considering he wasn't actually there.

"Hasn't been this bad in a long time," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"Not since Bullseye," she admitted.

"Not since Bullseye," he echoed.

Elektra took a shaky breath, covering Matt's hands where they rested on her stomach. She must be in real trouble if the pain was this strong, even in her dream. Hallucination. She was too tired to obsess over word choice.

Sometimes he showed up in memories, placing himself in random moments of her past with no rhyme or reason. Sometimes it was like this, not exactly a memory but enough of one. Sometimes he was blind, sometimes he wasn't. Elektra had long ago realized it was a bizarre defense mechanism, a security blanket created by her subconscious when she was in very dire straits.

Judging by the way her body was screaming at her, the way she couldn't seem to get enough air, the security blanket was about to be yanked off.

"You're bleeding," Matt declared.

Elektra mumbled a response, forgetting what she meant to say before the words left her mouth. She relaxed against him, felt herself fading out.

Then his arms were gone and she was cold again.

"No sleeping," he said chidingly.

Cracking one eye, she noticed that he'd moved to the edge of the bed, pressing careful fingers on her bleeding shoulder. She remembered now. Abby. Garrett. Just a shoulder wound.

"Elektra."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Talk."

"Keeps you awake."

"That's my point."

He frowned, watching the sheets and her nightgown stain red. "You don't mean that."

Forcing the other eye open, Elektra sat up painfully. Matt didn't try to help. "Abby got mad at me. Before this started."

"She's a teenager; she's supposed to get mad at you."

"The trip. I told her she couldn't go because it wasn't safe."

"I know. She asked when it would be safe."

"It never is. If it's not The Hand, it's Kingpin. If it's not him it's someone else. Hiding, fighting, running. That's not a life."

"Did you really think that once you came back to New York everything would be perfect?"

"No," she lied. "Not perfect. Better than this."

Matt left the bed, facing away from her. "You promised Mark."

"I told you, it was stupid." She paused, pictured Abby dying again in that hazy, undefined parking lot, pictured her almost dying from Bullseye's dart, pictured Matt himself wielding a knife over her. "I lied to him, I can't protect her."

"Not if you don't try."

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair. She'll hate you for this, you know she will."

Yes, Elektra did know that, knew perfectly well about Abby's fears of losing anyone else. "She'd end up hating me anyway."

Matt looked at her over his shoulder. "This I definitely want to hear."

"I told she was okay after Kirigi died, I told her she could be normal."

"Don't you think she needed to hear that?"

"It was stupid. This isn't normal, this isn't what makes kids happy. She's not going to look back and smile over this."

He faced her again, expression hard and unforgiving. "You're tired. You're tired and you're making excuses."

She didn't have the energy for a denial. The room was starting to blur. The only thing that stayed clear was Matt's cold face and colder eyes. "Keep going, Elektra."

Her father. The pool. Treading water 'til she couldn't hold her arms up anymore.

"Keep going," he repeated.

She begged him with her eyes to stop, to understand. Then she remembered this wasn't Matt, not really. So she told him the truth, something she'd never admit to in the real world. "I'm not strong enough." She paused, steeling herself. "I'm gonna die."

Her Matt would've raged against that statement. Begged, pleaded, denied. This Matt simply looked at her with his arms crossed and, in a cool, factual manner replied, "Won't be the first time."

* * *

She woke up screaming Matt's name. Her body protested loudly enough that she fell back, shaking uncontrollably.

"He's not here," Garrett said calmly. "You'll be okay."

Breathing hard, she first registered the pain in her shoulder. Next came the realization that they were in another motel room. Finally, Elektra recognized that her stomach was about to betray her. "I'm going to be sick."

Garrett told her to stay there, grabbed for a garbage can by the door. She ignored him, body moving before her brain could warn against it. Stumbling to the bathroom, Elektra waited for the spasms to pass, coughing and dry heaving until Garrett crouched down next to her.

"You're going to make it worse."

She glared miserably, killed him with her eyes. He ignored her, filling a small cup with water and holding it out. "Sip. Slowly."

"No," Elektra muttered, wondering why the room couldn't stay still.

"You're dehydrated."

"I'm not dehydrated.

"Just like you weren't in shock," he grumbled. Setting the cup by the sink, he went to help her up, easing an arm around her back.

"I'm fine," she insisted, using what little strength she had to push him away.

Garrett persisted, carefully but firmly bringing her to her feet.

She punched him in the face. There was no force behind it, no speed. He grunted in irritation, too busy holding her up to dodge.

"I said I'm fine."

"Fine," he echoed disbelievingly. "You're fine?"

"Yes, Garrett, I'm fine." She was dizzy and nauseous and sore as hell.

Garrett looked at her, mulled over something in his head. "You're fine?"

"Yes."

He let her go, watching with a blank expression as she collapsed in a heap on the floor. She cried out in pain, biting her lip to stifle the noise. Too shaky to move, she lay with her cheek to the tile, fighting the urge to retch again.

"Call me when you're not fine," he advised. Then he left her there.

Elektra took half-an hour to get out of the bathroom. She fell twice, even with the wall as support. Garrett watched this silently from a chair by the window. By the time she reached him, Elektra was pale, sweaty, and thoroughly incensed. She dropped to the bed, using all her energy to remain upright. "Goddamn you."

"You said you were fine. You always are."

Elektra looked up sharply, the motion sending a bolt of agony coursing through her skull. Garrett handed her another cup of water, along with two white capsules. Throat like sandpaper, Elektra accepted the water this time but waved away the pills.

"Let me guess, you're not in pain either."

"Where's Abby?" she demanded, abruptly realizing that her charge wasn't there.

"Outside, she needed some air."

A car could be heard pulling into the parking lot. Garrett was up in a second, peering out the darkened window. "I'll be right back," he said hurriedly, already reaching for the gun at his waist.

Elektra tried to follow, but the going was slow and her brain was taking far too long to do its work.

Voices. Rised but muffled. Dammit why couldn't she clear herself of this fog?

Clutching her shoulder, Elektra reached the door just before it opened to reveal Matt standing on the threshold.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone. It's another late night for me so please forgive the lousy editing job. I put this at the bottom to avoid spoiling some things with my explanation. First off, the idea of Matt visiting Elektra while she was injured came from Ben Affleck's 40 second cameo which was deleted from the Elektra movie. Additionally, I'm aware that Elektra might seem out-of-character in this chapter, but I felt that with all she's been through it would be logical for her to question herself and say things she wouldn't normally say, knowing that no one was there to hear them. If I'm wrong on this, please feel free to let me know.

I know things jump around quite a bit in this section, but all will be explained in the next update so don't worry if you're confused.

"I'm not strong enough. I'm gonna die."

"Won't be the first time."

Those lines came directly from an exchange between Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles season 2, episode 14, 'The Good Wound.' And for anyone who knows what I'm talking about, yes, I had that ep in mind when I wrote this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **So here's chapter 11, as if you hadn't figured that out already. While most of my recent updates (excluding chapter 10 which was more of a character study of Elektra) have been about plot and trying to keep things moving, this one is decidedly different. There's not a whole lot going on because this chapter and the next serve mainly as an interlude, showing what the characters have been up to and letting them regroup. As I said last time, things will be explained soon enough, but putting everything here might leave you guys overloaded on flashbacks and exposition. And…maybe I'm too lazy to write that long of a chapter.

Also, this might be the last update for awhile. Not a month, not 3 months, but I probably won't be averaging 2 chapters a week anymore. School's starting again and it'll take me a bit to get back into the whole academics thing, lol. Therefore, if you want more story I'll need reviews so I know people actually care and I'm not just writing to myself. And now that my rant is completed, read, enjoy, and leave some feedback on your way out.

* * *

Neither moved at first. Matt's jaw hung open while Elektra struggled to discern if this was real or another pain and drug induced illusion.

"Jesus," Matt whispered urgently, closing the distance between them to wrap her in his arms. "Elektra. What the hell happened?"

Elektra returned the hug, reasonably confident that he was in fact here, despite the fact that she had no earthly idea how he was here. She let him hold her, ignoring her body's protests. Running her hands over his scalp, she felt several new bumps there, evidence of how pleasant his incarceration must've been. "What are you doing here?" she mumbled.

He chuckled mirthlessly, inhaling her scent. "Missed you, too."

Elektra didn't reply. He knew what she meant. She pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek, noting the fading bruises adorning his face. Eyes closed, she felt the room starting to move again, thinking briefly that he was swaying them back-and-forth. Then her legs gave out.

Matt caught her, frowning deeply as he took most of her weight. "Elektra, what happened?" he asked again.

"I'm fine," she said weakly, not answering the question."

"You should get that tattooed somewhere," Garrett declared reentering the room and, maneuvering around the two of them. "How about right next to my name?"

Elektra shot him a vicious glare.

"What's the problem?" he continued, rummaging through a pile of medical supplies near one of the beds. "You put it next to mine, no one will see it anyway." He looked at Matt, gaze holding on the other man's milky eyes. "No one at all."

The former mercenary grit her teeth, ignoring Matt's raised eyebrows. "I can still take you," she threatened.

"Right now you couldn't take a first-grader with a white belt," he shot back, fiddling with an IV she'd failed to notice before.

"I told you no hospitals," she snapped.

"True, but you said that while most of your blood supply was on the floor of the Red-Roof Inn, so I figured your judgment might be slightly impaired. By the way, while you were convincing me to let you bleed out, you also revealed a deep-seeded fantasy involving me, Stick, and Ethan." Leering at his own joke, Garrett adjusted the IV again.

"Ethan?" Elektra repeated, wondering why the name was so familiar. She couldn't think straight and weighed the possibility that Garrett may've slipped her more drugs while she was out.

"Burke," Garrett supplied. "You remember Burke."

As if recognizing he was the topic of conversation, Ethan Burke strode through the still-open door, looking thoroughly put-out. If she'd been surprised by Matt's arrival, Burke's presence threatened to push Elektra's pain-clouded mind over the edge. The man looked the same as he had nearly seven years earlier, tall, muscular, and seemingly annoyed by the world as a whole. His brown-blonde hair and well-maintained beard combined with his striking blue eyes would've made him attractive if he didn't look like he'd just guzzled a carton of sour milk.

"Why's he here?" Elektra asked, ignoring the need to hit the bed and pass out again.

"He got me out of Rikers," Matt replied, though he didn't sound overly grateful.

"Mr. Pierce," Burke nodded curtly. The Irish accent seemed to have lessened over time..

Garrett didn't acknowledge the greeting, turning his attention to Matt. "She needs to lie down."

"I'm fine," Elektra said, not caring that it was an outright lie. Feeling betrayed, she glared at Matt as he carefully but firmly forced her to the bed next to the IV.

"Matt, I'm telling you-"

"You're fine," Abby declared flatly, locking the door behind her. The older woman blinked at seeing her drop a Baretta 9mm on the table. "Right, you're fine?"

"Abby," Elektra began, unsure what to make of that tone.

"You were supposed to get me as soon as she woke up," the teen snapped, pinning Garrett under an angry stare.

"I didn't," the hitman replied brusquely. "Deal."

"Jackass," she muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Though she agreed with the assessment, Elektra puzzled over the tension between Garrett and her protégé. They didn't necessarily _like _each other, but this open hostility was a new development. She made a mental note to grill the teen later, once she could stay awake and no longer felt like she'd gone twelve rounds with Kirigi's entire team.

"I see you taught her manners," Garrett mumbled, performing his own inspection of the injury.

"Elektra," Matt said sharply. "Who is this guy?"

"Nobody," she replied, more a reflex than anything else. She wasn't entirely sure why she was this angry with him, but it was sure to come back to her eventually..

"Hi," Garrett said with false cheerfulness, offering Matt a brief wave. "I'm nobody. Good to know you." To Elektra, "You need antibiotics. Can you _try _not to bite my head off while I do this?" he asked, gesturing towards the IV.

"I don't need-"

"You're burning up," Matt interrupted. "Could be an infection."

Elektra blinked in confusion until she remembered Matt's ability to sense temperatures. Those finely-attuned senses could be quite irritating. "I don't like drugs."

Rolling his eyes, Garrett threw up his hands in exasperation and pretended to head for the door. "The guy who owns this dump? He's got this little, ugly, pathetic excuse for a dog. Thing attacked me when I checked us in. And you know what the owner told me? The dog's retarded. Literally, little Baxter is retarded. And you know what, E? I'd wager my place in California that the piss-ugly, mentally defective dog that's too stupid to know it's own name has better listening skills than you do."

"We don't have time for this," Burke declared before Elektra could form a response.

Abby, the only one there who didn't know the man's identity, matched his look of irritation. "Can someone explain who he is?"

"He works with Stick," Elektra replied tiredly.

"He works _for _Stick," Garrett corrected. "Ethan here was his favorite student way back when. Had his head crammed so far up the old man's ass-"

"Thank you for that image," Abby cut in. "But what's he doing here?"

"He got me out of Rikers," Matt repeated, still not sounding terribly grateful. Garrett and Elektra sympathized, united in their dislike of Burke if nothing else.

"I'm here to help," Burke stated, tone making it clear that his presence wasn't a matter of choice.

Garrett nodded. "Thank you, Burke. That explains everything."

Scowling, the Irishman took in all of them from his position by the window, stopping at Elektra's pale form. "We'll discuss it later. Pierce," he shot Garrett a nasty scowl, "is right about the antibiotics and those stitches need to be changed."

"So," Garrett muttered, "Do we club her over the head to make her behave or do you think the four of us can hold her down?"

* * *

"Mr. Elektra's going to kill me if I screw this up, right?"

She ignored the pain as Garrett redid her sutures. "No, but I will."

"Same threat, different year," he replied, working the needle through her skin with practiced efficiency.

Abby was outside with Matt while Burke was on a food run, though he'd loathed taking orders from Garrett. ("You want to help? Find us some damn eggrolls. And vodka, the good kind. Think you can handle that without consulting Stick-the-all-knowing-master-of-the-universe?")

"Good as new," he stated. "Don't say I never did anything for you.'

Elektra chose not to point out that the stitches wouldn't need replacing if he hadn't sat there and watched as she killed herself getting out of the bathroom. He would've helped, of that she was sure. If she'd been willing to admit she needed it.

Testing her shoulder, Elektra nodded in approval. It was a good patch-job, testament to Garrett's excellent medical training. Did he get that from S.H.I.E.L.D or somewhere else? She'd never cared to ask, but he'd done a better job than Burke would have in any case. The blonde man sucked in Stick's teachings about Kimagure like a vacuum, but was useless with things of this nature.

As for Matt, she'd ordered him outside, both for Abby's protection and her own sanity. He was too edgy, twitching at every sound, and Garrett was plainly uncomfortable. While Elektra would normally enjoy seeing him on the defensive, she didn't need a nervous man sticking her with needles.

"Garrett-"

"Don't start, okay?" Standing up, he began packing away the medical supplies, refusing to look at her. "I was kidding before and I was trying not to smack you for being such a fucking idiot. No more telling Mr. Elektra about your tattoos or those threesome dreams with me and Ethan."

"You mentioned Stick, too," Elektra reminded, grimacing at the thought.

Garrett laughed, throwing her a smile that took ten years from his face. "Sorry, that was bad wasn't it?"

"Even by your standards," she replied dully.

He shrugged as he went to wash his hands. "They can't all be gold."

Elektra waited for him to finish before speaking again. "What's up with you and Abby?"

The last vestiges of that smile faded as he came out, drying his hands on a towel. "Your seething hatred of me must be rubbing off."

Elektra gave him a look.

Sighing, he threw the towel in a corner. She saw in his eyes that the sloppiness was for her benefit. "She's upset. The kid practically worships you for Christ's sake and you almost died."

"What did you do?"

He walked up to the bed on which she was sitting, looking her square in the face. "I did what I had to do to get you out before all three of us were busted."

"You didn't kill in front of her?" Elektra demanded.

"I wasn't on the clock, E. We got you out; there were a couple moments when it got heated."

"What does that mean?"

"If she's as mad you think, I'm sure she'll tell you," he replied. "You should get some rest."

Elektra opened her mouth to protest, but common sense and exhaustion won out. They'd forced the IV on her and whatever was inside had kicked in already. She could barely keep her eyes open to argue with him.

"I'm getting some ice," Garrett said, and Elektra knew it was an excuse. She wouldn't let her guard down in front of him, a fact he was perfectly aware of.

"Garrett," she called, a half-remembered phrase popping into her mind.

He halted his move for the door, tilting his head quizzically.

"Don't ever call me babe again."

There was enough ice in her tone to widen even his eyes, "Sir Yes sir General Elektra sir!" he barked, adding a salute for good measure.

* * *

"She kicked you out huh?"

Matt smiled as he joined Abby outside near the door. "I wanted to see how you were."

"You mean _she _wanted you to see how I was."

"Both," he admitted softly. "So how are you?"

"Fine. She's fine, you're fine, I'm fine."

Matt's smile turned downward. "How bad was it?"

Abby said nothing.

"I need to know," he insisted.

Catching his sightless eyes in the dark, she took pity on his pleading expression. "Garrett was wrong."

Matt stared towards her in puzzlement.

"He said Elektra was too stubborn to die again."

"_She was out for about ninety seconds."_

"_Out as in gone," Garrett replied sharply._

"_Yes," Dr. Collins confirmed. "We got her heart started again."_

"_The wonders of medical science," Garrett muttered. He was still covered in blood. "She stabilized."_

"_Yes. It was close, but the worst is over."_

"_Good. Can we have a minute please?"_

_The blond glanced quickly from Garrett to Abby to Elektra's unconscious form. "There are some detectives here to see you."_

_Abby caught a second's worth of frustration in Garrett's eyes, then it was gone. "The boyfriend, he's a cop."_

"_You said. But if he did this to her…"_

"_I know," Garrett acknowledged. "I'll just…he's done things before, never this bad, but he's got connections."_

"_Then we'll find someone he's not connected with," Collins replied firmly. She believed them, or at least didn't _not _believe them._

"_Yeah," Garrett said, resting a hand on Abby's back. "Just…it's her mother. Okay? Can we give them some time?" He pressed painfully into her spine, bringing fresh tears to the girl's eyes._

"_Of course," Collins responded, sympathy slipping past her professional façade. "She'll be fine," the doctor added, giving Abby a reassuring smile._

_Once she'd gone, Garrett skimmed over the medical chart by the bed, then glanced quickly at Abby. "Good job."_

_She nodded mutely._

_There was a light rap on the door, followed by the entrance of a fair skinned man in a Yankees t-shirt. On seeing them, his face turned red with embarrassment. "Sorry, wrong room."_

"_Don't worry about it," Garrett replied, shaking his head in dismissal. Smiling awkwardly, the guy in the baseball shirt disappeared down the hospital corridor._

"_Stay here," he instructed._

"_Where are you going?"_

"_We have to move," he said, already halfway out the door. "Sit tight."_

_He returned minutes later pushing a wheelchair in with him. The bloody clothes were gone, replaced by jeans and a Yankees shirt. Abby didn't ask. Pushing the wheelchair next to the bed, Garrett disconnected the tubes surrounding her and lifted Elektra in his arms. Abby caught the look in his eyes, the way he stroked her hair for just a second before setting her down. Lids half-opening, Elektra made a small noise of protest._

"_Sorry, babe," he told her, grabbing the chair's handles. "But we have to blow this pop stand before they find out my insurance card's no good."_

"_Mr. Pierce I…" The pretty doctor trailed off. Eyes blazing with fury and suspicion, she stormed up to the hitman. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

"_Checking out," he replied calmly, glancing at Elektra's unconscious form. "She's incredibly picky, doesn't like hospital food."_

_Collins backed away, looking at him with new eyes. "I can't let you do that."_

"_Actually," he replied, abandoning the chair. Abby blinked and he was in Collins's personal space, gun resting comfortably near her heart. "You can." She made to run, but Abby beat her to the door, trapping her inside. The woman continued to move, but something in Abby's demeanor stopped her after a few paces._

_Garrett went for her again, forcing her to turn around. With the exit secured, he backtracked, placing his free hand on the chair handle while keeping the gun trained on her. "Now," he said evenly, "we need to go."_

"_She can't be moved," Collins shot back, a tremor in her voice._

"_She can, but I need some things. I need to take care of her when she gets out of here. You and I are going to get some things, then you're going to help us out."_

"_Look, whatever this is, whatever trouble you're in-"_

"_Shhh," Garrett hushed her. "You're married," he stated. Abby blinked, surprised he'd bother to notice her ring finger._

"_Yes," she answered, some of the fire leaving her eyes._

"_That's nice. I'd like that, being married to a doctor, wouldn't have worry about bandaging myself up. You have kids?"_

"_No," she replied, though all the color seemed to have drained from her skin. A protective hand went over her abdomen which, Abby suddenly realized, stuck out just slightly against her trim figure._

_Garrett noticed too, lips quirking in a half-smile. Abby watched horrorstruck as he lowered the gun to her stomach. "That's great," he said conversationally. "Boy or girl? Or don't you know yet?"_

"_Please," the blonde whimpered._

"_Shhh. You're smart, you know I can pull this trigger before you get a chance to scream."_

"_Garrett!"_

"_Be quiet," he replied in that easy, casual way. "Stay by the door."_

"_Listen," Collins said waveringly, tears spilling over as she held her stomach. "I'll help you, okay? Anything, just-"_

"_I know that," he soothed. "I know you will. And you won't say anything because you're smart. I don't need this gun. I can snap your neck in a heartbeat."_

"_Garrett!" Abby repeated._

_He ignored her. "Susan, right? You said your name was Susan? You're a good person, you like helping people. Well you're going to help me help my friend. We'll get some things to make sure she's okay after she leaves here, then you're going to help us get out, of the building. Quietly."_

"_Yes, okay! I won't say anything, I promise!"_

"_I know, Susan. You're a good wife, good mother soon enough. Now we're just going to relax, just for a minute while you get yourself together," he said, indicating the tears and mascara running down her cheek. "You'll get yourself calmed down, then all of us are going to take a walk."_

"_What the _fuck _is wrong with you?" Abby shouted from the backseat of Garrett's truck as they left the hospital fifteen minutes later_

"_Turn it down," Garrett replied. "Keeping her comfortable doesn't involve trashing her eardrums."_

_Abby looked at her guardian, still unconscious, but resting safely next to her. Counting to five, she made herself relax. Kind of. "Fucking asshole," she muttered at a significantly lower volume. "She was having a friiging kid."_

"_She still is," he retorted. "It's a nerve center, that's all. One pinch isn't going to stop her from having a baby shower."_

"_I know what a nerve center is," Abby snapped, trying to keep Elektra from being jostles as they went over a bump._

"_Then be quiet and let it go."_

_The girl almost shouted again, but chose instead to bite her tongue. Hard._

"_We need to get somewhere we can be for awhile."_

_Abby didn't reply, merely glowered at him in the rearview mirror._

* * *

Matt crept silently into the room, Abby close behind. She'd given him a brief narrative on the last few days, ending with "Then she crashed and they brought her back. Then we left." The lack of details worried him, but so did a lot of things recently. Abby shut herself in the bathroom while he stood carefully over his sleeping girlfriend.

"Come here," Elektra mumbled, astounding him with how quickly she was able to wake herself up. He crawled on the bed next to her, keeping more space than he'd like between them. Blinking fuzzily, Elektra grabbed his shirt collar, forcing their lips to meet. So much for more space to avoid hurting her.

He broke first, shifting himself to a better position as he kissed her still-warm forehead.

"For the record," she stated, words becoming clearer as she came awake further. "I did miss you."

Matt grinned, tracing her jawline and rubbing a hand over her good arm. "Missed you, too."

"You said that already."

"Bears repeating." They were silent for a few moments. "You don't know who shot you."

"I told you, and Abby, and Garrett, and Ethan. More than once."

"I'm sorry."

She mumbled noncommittally. "Abby?"

"She's okay. Relatively."

"It's always relatively," she replied.

"She said you crashed. They lost you for a minute." Hr shuddered involuntarily.

Facing him on her good side, Elektra traced the back of his neck. "Doesn't matter, I'm good now."

He chose not to argue that point. "So Garrett…"

She made a noise in the back of her throat "Garrett's just Garrett."

"That's informative," he replied, unable to mask his amusement.

"He's nothing. I needed someone and he was the closest."

"He the one who taught Abby about guns?" Matt questioned, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Her idea, not mine."

"She was holding one on me when we got here."

A pause. "Ethan got you out of jail."

"He did."

"He tell you why?"

Matt swallowed hard. "Some of it, we'll make him talk later."

Elektra nodded absently. "The camp's gone, that's why I came here."

"I know, he told me.'

"What else did he tell you?"

"Later," Matt replied.

"Now."

"You're not even half-awake yet."

"Matt."

"When he gets back, after we get some food in you."

She swore at him under her breath and he drew her hand to his lips. "Patience is a virtue."

"I m not virtuous."

Abby came out of the bathroom, hands in pockets to disguise the fact that she'd scrubbed them close to raw. "Get a room," she said, failing to hide her smile.

Elektra raised an eyebrow, gazing slowly around them.

"A different room," she amended. "On the other side of the motel. Where I don't have to hear or see anything."

Garrett came in holding a bag of ice, followed closely by Ethan. "Look what Baxter the defective dog dragged in." Garrett glanced at Matt and Elektra for half a millisecond before concentrating on putting away the ice they didn't need.

Ethan dropped a bag of Chinese takeout on the table. "Found the eggrolls."

"What about the vodka?" Garrett asked.

"Alcohol isn't my priority here, Mr. Pierce."

"Well then what the hell kind of Irishman are you, Mr. Burke? You're a disgrace to your people."

Burke ignored him, scrutinizing Elektra with a clinical eye. "Are you feeling better?" he questioned, looking thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

"What is this, Ethan? Why are you here?"

"Sensei ordered me to make sure you stayed well. I've done that."

"You've talked to him?" Garrett asked sharply.

"No. He gave me the order before The Hand found us." He glared fiercely at Matt when he said that. Then he went for the door.

"Where the hell are you going?' Elektra demanded.

He turned back to her, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "I have something else that needs doing."

"Which is what?" Elektra pressed.

"It doesn't concern you."

"You not answering makes me think it does."

Burke paused, considering his words. "There's a problem with The Treasure. She may be in danger."

Everyone except Burke looked at Abby. "No," the teen denied. "This is bullshit. How long are they going to do this? We can't…we can't deal with their crap now."

"Abby," Matt tried to interrupt.

"No," she repeated. "Tell them to get a new hobby. I'm not part of this, I'm definitely not joining them, why do they keep this up?"

No one spoke at first. Then, thoroughly irritated by the need to explain these things, Burke said, "I didn't say _you _were in danger, I said, _The Treasure _was in danger."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** So…clearly I lied in my last one of these. Hopefully that's a good thing. I decided to mark my last day of freedom by putting out another chapter, though I'm pretty sure this _will _be the last one for a bit. We'll see how Accounting Principles II treats me before I worry about the next update. Using what I recall from Intro Economics, I'm going to beg for feedback in a new and exciting way. There is a direct relationship between the number of reviews I receive and the speed at which this story continues. Loosely translated, that means read, enjoy, and leave me a feedback present before you leave.

* * *

Confusion flitted over Abby's features. She locked eyes with Elektra, then switched back to Ethan. The former assassin looked surprised. Stick's blonde associate looked bored and impatient.

"New generation, new Treasure," Garrett mumbled.

Ethan nodded curtly. "Good to know you retained some knowledge, Mr. Pierce."

Garrett raised his hand in a palm-back V. Abby arched a brow, unfamiliar with the gesture. Elektra smiled faintly, on the inside at least. Garrett had mentioned spending time in England as a boy, though Elektra hadn't cared to ask for details. She did however recognize that Garrett had just given Ethan the British equivalent of the finger.

"Wait, you're saying I'm off the hook?" Abby questioned.

Burke shot her a cool glare. "Yes, it must be such a relief for you," he replied bitingly.

"Burke. Don't." Matt's vice was low, a warning.

Ethan sneered. "It doesn't matter anymore. I have to go."

"You know where the new girl is?" Garrett asked.

"I believe so."

"And The Hand?"

"Not involved."

Elektra blinked. She'd made herself sit up as soon as he and Garrett returned; now she leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "Not involved? The ultimate weapon you people fight over decade after decade and Roshi's not involved?'

"Master Roshi is trying to rebuild his army. Striking our camp cost him dearly, though not as dearly as it cost us." Again, he scowled at the blind lawyer."He lacks the resources to pursue The Treasure at this time."

"Then why would this kid need protecting?" Matt wondered.

"Mr. Murdock, I've done my job. However reluctantly, I've done it. I don't have time now to explain matters that you have no part in."

Garrett laughed derisively. "Stick gave you an assignment? And you're questioning his infallible judgment? Has hell finally frozen over?'

"This doesn't concern you either Mr. Pierce."

"No, Burke, it probably doesn't. But I always liked story time when I was little, so what say you tell us one?"

Ethan's lips disappeared, pressed tight as they were. "Sensei told me to watch over you," he stated, glowering at Matt and Elektra. "He claimed it was because The Treasure was in your care." Burke's tone was harsh, mocking.

"Get to the point," Matt snapped. Elektra got the feeling this was part of what Ethan had already told him.

"The _point_, Mr. Murdock, is that you four are on your own. The Treasure needs to be tended to, and I need to find out how many of our men are left."

"What are you hiding?" Elektra demanded.

"Who's after the kid?" Abby added, mild shock still registering on her face.

Ethan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "From what we learned before the camp went up, from what I know now, Fisk seems to be searching for the child."

* * *

"Mr. Phillips. Tell me you have good news."

"Well sir, the girl…the one that-"

"Keep going, Phillips."

"Yes, sir. We have a location."

"You're sure about that?"

"Positive Mr. Fisk."

The crimelord crushed his feelings of satisfaction. It wasn't over yet. "Send a team."

"Already done. Sir, forgive me, but Ms. Lopez could be very helpful-"

"Maya isn't part of this."

"Right, of course not."

"Talk to Agent Cromwell, see how he plans to handle Murdock . Get me everything on this man who helped him."

"Yes, sir."

Fisk contemplated the view from his corner office as Philips scurried out, tail between his legs. Murdock's escape was a setback, but nothing more. The girl, that was something else altogether.

He'd heard the legends, as had everyone else who knew of The Hand's existence. The idea of a child gifted enough to win a war intrigued him, but he'd never put much stock in it.

Until Elektra Natchios came back from the dead.

A child strong enough to win a war could be very valuable indeed. More so even than Maya.

Maya.

An exceptional young woman a prodigy, her father bragged about her endlessly. Until Wilson ordered the man dead.

He'd taken Maya then, honed her skills, given her the best of everything, if from afar. She thought him a savior, eventually becoming the best, the most loyal he had. But that couldn't last. She'd find out, sooner or later, then she'd turn on him. She'd been a good project, served him well, but she was no Treasure.

And one day, very soon, she'd need replacing.

He called Phillips on the intercom and demanded hourly updates on the team's progress.

* * *

Elektra was up and pacing the too-small motel room, even smaller with five people crammed inside. Three of the other four were smart enough to move out of her way. Burke wasn't.

"Since when did you care about the war, Elektra?"

"She cares because Fisk shouldn't be adopting any more future psychopaths." Abby answered.

Elektra shot her a look, but kept pacing.

"Come on, E. We can't just sit here and let him kidnap her," the teen persisted.

"The situation will be dealt with," Burke stated flatly.

Abby turned on him. "By you? How old is this kid?"

"Seven."

"Seven. And you're going to what, rescue her then tell her how she's supposed to save the world? Turn her into a fighting machine?"

"Once we rebuild, she will need to be trained."

"Right, obviously. Screw the fact that she's seven years old and maybe she doesn't _want_ you guys as babysitters"

Burke scowled. "You have no business questioning our methods. Maybe if you'd-"

Matt crossed in front of Burke, creating a psychical block between him and the teenager. "Don't. Do not, or I swear to God-"

"What?' Abby demanded. "What's his issue?"

"Besides the fact that he's a slimy little kiss-up who can't wipe his nose without Stick's approval?" Garrett asked. The hitman was perched on the table, calmly munching on an eggroll.

"Just stop," Elektra ordered, halting in the center of the room. "All of you." She looked at Burke. "How do you know Fisk wants her?"

"He's been making inquiries, quiet inquiries."

"If he knows about her, Roshi does too."

"As I said, The Hand is broken, just like we are. But yes, Roshi already tried acquiring her. Didn't he, Mr. Murdock?"

Matt looked down, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

"What's he talking about?" Elektra questioned.

"The girl's father," Burke replied. "He was…exceedingly resourceful. He managed to feed The Hand false information on his whereabouts. While he and his daughter disappeared, Roshi sent an operative to where he thought they would be, the home of a Mr. Charles Mitchum."

Elektra stared back and forth between Matt and Ethan until the blind man finally spoke. "Charles Mitchum is the reason they arrested me. There's footage of me killing him."

The way he said it brought pain to Elektra that had nothing to do with her bullet wound. Unwilling to dwell on this new bit of information, she focused on the emotion she'd gotten most comfortable with over the years. Anger. "Goddammit."

"Indeed. Besides murdering at least two of our men, Mr. Murdock was nearly responsible for destroying our best chance at victory."

Next to Matt, Abby trapped Burke under a death glare that rivaled Elektra's. "Why don't you just shut the hell up? She wasn't there-"

"So that excuses it, along with everything else he's done?"

"Ethan," Garrett spoke up, "Take her advice and shut up. The old man's a manipulative bastard who doesn't care about collateral damage as long as he gets what he wants. You, you're just the same, minus the ability to think for yourself, so don't get all high and mighty now."

Elektra shot Garrett a surprised glance. Then she remembered how much he detested Ethan. In the face of that, his defense of Matt actually made sense.

"Forget it," Abby declared in frustration. "We're wasting time."

Elektra looked at Matt. He came as close as he could to meeting her eyes, face unreadable.

"Elektra," the teen said imploringly.

The ex mercenary turned to her charge, preparing for the storm. "We have our own problems."

Abby looked like she'd been struck in the face. "It's a kid. A seven year-old kid."

Elektra grimaced, forcing the words off her tongue. "She's Ethan's responsibility."

"Well I don't like _Ethan_, and I don't trust _Ethan_. We can't seriously-"

"No, we can't." She'd done the protect the sheep routine once before and barely made it through, and that was before Kingpin and the FBI had it out for her.

Abby stared at her with hurt eyes, not dissimilar to how she'd looked when Elektra told Mark to flee to South America and hope the ninjas didn't follow. Abby should've known then how cold her mentor could be, though time seemed to have dimmed the memory.

Not anymore.

When it came to her family (Which Abby and Matt were, no matter how reluctant she was to even think the word) Elektra could justify anything, any action or lack thereof. This was different anyway. The kid wasn't defenseless, Burke was there, and he'd die to protect her.

Protect her, take control of her life, and probably rip away her childhood.

Didn't matter. Not her kid, not her problem. Elektra met Abby's furious gaze, shaking her head minutely.

"Matt!" the teen yelled. "Tell her!"

"Abby," he started flatly.

She didn't let him finish. "It's Kingpin, remember? _Kingpin _wants to steal this kid and turn her into…whatever he's trying to turn her into!"

Matt said nothing.

"You could get information from his guys," Abby continued. "They might give you something to clear yourself."

The lawyer remained silent. There was nothing to clear; he'd killed an innocent man, circumstances aside. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost remember it…

The former Treasure took a deep breath, letting all the emotions bleed out as she held Elektra's gaze again. "If you hadn't helped me, we would've died. That last year with Dad, wouldn't be there. Please. For me."

Elektra bit her lip. Dammit but this wasn't fair. She looked at Matt, who shrugged in return. Her call. "We go, we make sure she gets out. That's it. Do you understand?"

Abby nodded, though it was obvious she wasn't completely satisfied. Too bad. Elektra didn't like compromises and rarely bothered with negotiations. Hopefully Abby would be smart enough to drop it and take what she could get.

"You've gone soft," Garrett remarked, though there was nothing behind it except mild surprise.

Elektra didn't contradict him. "You coming?" she asked, immediately regretting giving him the option.

The hitman played with a pair of chopsticks. "Do you want me to?"

"No."

He smirked. "I don't know. That shoulder's going to slow you down, but Ethan..." He trailed off, making a face. "Working with him might be worse than when you pushed me off the building in Venice."

"Verona," Elektra corrected.

"That's what I said," Garrett joked. "I don't know. I'm not bored anymore, and there's no money in it. You guys go ahead, take the kid to Barney Live or whatever they watch these days."

"Okay, this is getting really bad," Abby stated. "She does have a name right? I mean, the least we can do is call her something other than 'she' or 'the kid.'"

Matt's lips drew up in a rueful smile. Ethan was pleasant as ever. "It's not important."

"Ethan," Garrett muttered. "You already spilled the important stuff; I doubt a name is going to make a difference.

Burke stared long and hard at the hitman before answering. "Rachel."

Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Is there a last name or do we get to sit here and guess 'til Fisk's guys show up?"

Another long pause. "Vance."

Elektra watched in confusion as Garrett dropped the utensils he'd been fiddling with. His skin went two shades paler and he shook, actually shook, before regaining the control to speak.

"Vance. You're sure?"

Burke scowled.

"You know. You know she's it?"

The scowl deepened.

"Fucking son of a bitch," Garrett muttered softly. Sliding from the table, he went to the bed on the right and pulled a shotgun from under it. "Let's go," he told the group.

Elektra shivered. He looked like McCabe, even though he didn't. McCabe, right before he sent her down the tunnel and made his last stand. God, even the words were the same. Locking that image away, she crossed to him, pinning him with suspicious green orbs. "You said you weren't coming."

"And now I am."

"Why?"

"It's personal."

"Personal," Elektra repeated.

"Yeah, personal. I'm not fighting with you on this."

"This is foolish," Ethan stated. "None of you have any need to be there."

Turning from Elektra, Garrett shoved the barrel of the gun up to Ethan's chin in one fluid move. "You know what else was foolish? Your father buying an extra large condom."

Without another word, Garrett marched out the door; shotgun in hand, pausing long enough to grab the Baretta Abby had discarded earlier.

* * *

They drove in silence, Garrett's truck not far ahead. Elektra was behind the wheel, barely noticing the ache in her shoulder. Abby had stayed uncharacteristically silent the entire time, prompting Elektra to check time and again whether the teen had drifted into slumber. But no, Abby was wide awake, staring out the back window of the car Ethan and Matt drove up in.

When she wasn't worrying over Abby, Matt could feel Elektra's gaze on him. They'd taken a few minutes to load up the vehicles before departing and, when he was sure Abby wasn't listening, the fugitive lawyer told Elektra some of what she wanted to know. He told her how Ethan brought him to a safehouse, gave him new clothes and a place to wash off the prison stink. He explained how he'd gone crazy waiting for Burke to locate them via Kimagure, then he made a joke about GPS being superior. She didn't laugh.

Matt told her of Burke's glaring disdain for him, grimacing as he recalled his interactions with the bearded man.

"_Sensei ordered me to keep an eye on you, help if it became necessary. I imagine he doesn't want you slipping again and killing anymore of our allies. Ten good men died while you were doing Roshi's bidding."_

He didn't tell her about Burke's suggestion that he'd given away The Compound's location, that Matt himself was responsible for hundreds of deaths, possibly even Stick's. He'd do that eventually, when he could face the possibility that Burke was right. When he could face it. Shit, that probably meant never.

He recounted some of what Ethan said about Abby, explaining why he'd been so protective at the motel.

"_The Treasure could've ended this for us, and you had her watching TV and going to school dances. A waste of the best opportunity we have."_

_Matt came very close to hitting him then. "She has a name, remember that? She's not an opportunity, she's a person!"_

The idea of her protégé being blamed for having a life almost sent her over the edge. Elektra would've hit Burke too if the lawyer hadn't used every skill of persuasion he had to stop her. She was mollified only when Matt promised that they'd both punish him later.

Listening to Abby in the backseat, he thought again about what they were all doing here. Ethan was plainly irritated by their presence, but appeared to realize that arguing would simply waste more time. Garrett's motivations were a mystery to him, he knew only that on hearing Rachel's last name, Pierce's heart rate skyrocketed and the smell of repressed fear hung over him. He would've preferred to keep Elektra away from combat situations, especially considering her shoulder, but he knew he had no say in it. She'd do as she pleased, even if it meant bulldozing him out of her way. When they got there, Elektra would attempt to make Abby stay in the car, or find another semi-safe place. It was a pointless gesture, they both knew it, but the ritual still had to be performed.

Why were all the women in his life so damn stubborn?

He'd sounded cold back there when he started to tell Abby it was a no-go. Some hero, the costumed protector who refused to help an innocent kid, but he couldn't help it. As Elektra said, they had their own problems, and he hadn't been a hero for a long time anyway. It was the Fisk connection that broke him. He didn't think he'd get anything out of Kingpin's hired help, anymore than Abby did when she threw out the desperate suggestion, but anything Fisk-related was enough to set his blood boiling. If Kingpin was involved, Matt had to be, too. It was just that simple.

"Are they saying anything?' Elektra asked suddenly.

Matt shook his head. Garrett and Ethan had stayed completely silent, though Pierce's heart continued to thrum at an abnormal rate.

"We're here," Abby declared as Garrett's red Dodge Ram turned onto long, unpaved road.

"So are they," Elektra replied flatly.

* * *

Elektra was right, Fisk's men had beaten them to the punch. Almost. While Matt and Ethan took out the guys in the back, Abby, Elektra, and Garrett stood over the lifeless body of a broad-shouldered man who looked to be in the early stages of middle age. The corpse was so close to the front door that Abby would've tripped over it had Elektra not stepped in.

Garrett's face was ashen, twisted in a snarl of rage. "Son of a bitch."

Abby opened her mouth to say something, right before Elektra shoved her to the side. This was right before the lights went out, which happened right before the bad guys decided to make their presence known.

The blackened room lit up every time a shot was fired. More men than Abby could count sprang up out of the woodwork, wasting no time in attacking Garrett and Elektra. Having been pushed rather forcefully out of immediate danger, the teen made to join the fray, until Elektra shouted for her to get the kid. Hesitating for a moment, Abby finally acknowledged that the adults could handle themselves and dashed up the stairs she'd seen prior to everything going dark.

The house reminded her of McCabe's place, the layout and décor vaguely similar. Or maybe it just felt that way because her protect The Treasure scheme was bringing back memories of that first meeting with Elektra. Whatever, now wasn't the time analyze housing styles. Reaching the upper landing, Abby froze in the pitch black, unsure where to go next. Forcing calm, she took the risk of closing her eyes for just a second.

_And saw a sobbing girl huddled under a desk, with a chair in front of her._

Whoa.

She'd used Kimagure.

On purpose this time.

Shouldn't she get a merit badge or something?

Moving on instinct, Abby ducked into one of the darkened rooms, surprised to find the outline of a study, with a desk and chair.

Whoa.

Stepping over the threshold, she made it halfway across the room before the arm went around her throat. Damn, she'd gotten overconfident and Hired Goon #54 had snuck up on her. She tried to free herself, but his grip was inescapable, and Abby saw white spots dance over her vision.

Be calm, Elektra always said. Panic is worse than anything else. She also said that Abby thought too much, a proclamation met with scoffs from the teen. But Elektra insisted, saying Abby needed to relax, stop worrying over the end result.

Don't force it.

Abby relaxed, letting reflex substitute brain power.

Hired Goon #54 went down with a floor-rumbling thud.

Whoa. Two of Elektra's lessons followed in less than two minutes.

She definitely deserved a merit badge.

Pushing the chair away, Abby knelt by the desk, relieved to hear voices downstairs. Hired Goons 1 to 53 seemed to be taken care of. The lights came back a moment later, causing Abby to blink hard a few times. Eyes adjusted, the teen winced in sympathy as she studied her replacement. Rachel was the typical cute kid, cherub face, shoulder length blonde hair a shade or two lighter than Abby's used to be. Sporting star-covered pajamas, Rachel looked at Abby with tear-filled eyes.

Now would probably be the time for comforting reassurances. Sadly, Abby had forgotten the small matter of having no skill whatsoever with kids. The only one she'd had any prolonged contact with was Timmy, and that was only because she'd paid him to draw pictures for her to give to the shrink she'd been forced to see after Mom. She'd yelled at him later for screwing up the task.

Then there was that Home Ec project, bring the robotic infant home and keep it alive for a weekend. That was worse than Timmy turning in pictures of fire and bloody skulls. She'd actually done pretty well, keeping her fake baby fed and changed and burped right up 'til Monday morning. In retrospect, it really was Elektra's fault. The woman had badgered her for half-an hour to get out of bed, making Abby smile under the covers because it reminded her of her Mom, reminded her that they had their own screwed up little family unit.

She really had been tired though, so when Elektra banged on her door the fourth time, Abby lost her temper, grabbing for the nearest projectile. She hadn't aimed, hadn't tried to hit anything. It was a childish display of frustration, done while she was half-asleep. Baby Girl Miller sailed left of Elektra's shoulder, landing roughly against the hallway wall. Elektra was less-than-pleased, and Abby failed the assignment. It seemed that causing your child's head to fall off qualified as a parental no-no.

And now she was ambling down memory lane while Rachel huddled in front of her, shaking uncontrollably.

"Hey, they're gone now? Okay? Everything's going to be okay."

The child shrank away, crying harder. Abby made a vow never to reproduce.

Footsteps pounded their way as everyone piled into the office. Matt and Ethan looked slightly rough around the edges, but nothing catastrophic. Blood stained Elektra's jacket, her stitches having reopened. Garrett's shirt had a growing spot of crimson near the chest, but he seemed okay too.

Without preamble, Elektra hauled Abby from the floor, probing for injuries.

"I'm fine," Abby promised, knowing her mentor wouldn't be satisfied until she knew for herself. Burke went for the girl, but Garrett shouldered ahead of him with a dangerous glare. Dropping to his knees, the hitman raked his eyes over the child. "You okay, Rachel?"

She shook her head.

"No, of course not. That's a dumb question. Are you hurt?"

Another shake of the head.

"Okay, that's good. Listen, it's over now. We're the good guys, okay?"

Abby tensed. He was being so nice, so comforting. Like he'd been when he threatened to kill the doctor and her unborn child. Burke tried to get closer again, but Garrett held up a hand.

"Back off, Ethan, or I will make you back off."

Rachel let out a distressed whimper.

"Hey," Garrett mumbled soothingly. "Hey, Rach. It's okay, all right. We're all here to help." His eyes swept briefly over the group, though he didn't look at Ethan.

"Daddy said not to come out," the child cried.

"I know, I know what Daddy said. But Rach, I'm not going to hurt you? Okay? None of us are." He paused, rocking back on his heels. "Come on, kiddo. You remember me, right?"

Abby gaped while Rachel studied him, small face puckered in concentration.

"It's okay. I know it's been awhile."

Rachel shook her head, realization dawning in her eyes. Slowly, she inched closer to him. "Uncle Garrett?" she asked tentatively.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Right, why don't I just stop saying that this will probably be the last update for awhile? That way I won't be lying to you guys should my muse continue to pester me. Keep in mind though that I'm still recovering from being thrust back into the world of higher education. I'm aware that this is kind of a nothing chapter, but I'm still rather fond of it and they can't all be action-packed. Like or hate, if you took the time to read the thing, including my pointless ramblings, please take the time to review. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, though if they offend you please blame my non-existent beta reader.

* * *

Blood. Again. Feeling much older than her sixteen years, Abby sighed wearily, bone-tired now that the adrenaline had worn off. She'd had her fill of blood over the past few days. Past few years, really.

Watching the adults confer from behind the bulletproof window Abby wished she were close enough to read lips. Then again, it was probably too dark for that anyway. And she didn't actually know how to read lips. She'd have Elektra teach her sometime, assuming they got out of this alive and avoided incarceration. Maybe they should go to Canada. Except Canada got cold and she hated hockey. Maybe Mexico.

God did she need to sleep. All the blood and rescuing had her hovering over the brink of exhaustion. Blood. Rachel. Shit. Unzipping the bag on the floor, Abby searched among the small collection of clothes and toys Garrett took from the house before they left, eventually pulling out an oversized nightshirt. Channeling the big sister she didn't have, Abby turned to Rachel. The blonde child was sitting as far away as she could on the backseat, and while the tears had dried up, her bottom lip still trembled and her face was a picture of misery.

"Hey Rachel, why don't we change your shirt?" Abby suggested kindly.

The kid jumped as if she'd been scalded, looked at Abby, then at the pajama top she was wearing. It was stained red, the blood having dried much sooner than the tears. Garrett had carried her out the back door, holding her steady against his chest. Abby still didn't know how he'd gotten the wound, but the blood from his shirt was now visible on Rachel's top.

"Come on," the teen urged gently. The windows were tinted, making privacy a non-issue. Besides, Abby knew from personal experience how it felt to be covered in blood, especially that of a loved-one. Was it today or yesterday that Elektra almost died again? Heck if she knew. Sleep, she needed to sleep and she knew it wouldn't happen.

Rachel gazed at her fearfully and Abby tried channeling Marsha Brady, even though she'd never liked that show. "He'll be right back. Garrett's just talking. They'll figure out what to do then he'll come right back."

Mollified if only slightly, Rachel scooted forward and let the older girl remove her bloody garment. As she was doing this, Abby glanced out the window, tensing at what she saw. Not far up the deserted road, Matt had Garrett's arms pinned behind his back while the hitman lunged desperately at Ethan, standing calmly in front of him.

"Are they your mommy and daddy?"

Blinking at the shyly voiced question, Abby pulled the clean shirt over Rachel's head, looking away from the people outside. "Huh?"

"Uncle Garrett's friends, the ones you rode in the other car with, are they your mommy and daddy?"

"No," Abby replied softly, frustrated by the magically-appearing lump in her throat. "No. My parents are…" Stupid. She'd said it before; certainly she was used to it by now, so why couldn't she finish her damn sentence?

"Your parents are with my parents," Rachel declared sadly.

"Yeah," the teen agreed. Matt was still holding on to Garrett, and Elektra was blocking his view of Ethan. She was gripping the back of his neck, leaning in close as she spoke.

"Did they adopt you?"

Not legally. "Sort of," Abby hedged, trying to keep the girl from noticing what was going on.

"Oh. A boy at one of my old schools was adopted."

"Yeah? Well Matt and Elektra aren't…they're not like my parents, they're just…"

"Elektra's a funny name.'

"Yeah," Abby replied slowly. "Don't…don't tell her that, okay?'

Garrett climbed into the driver's side before the girl could form a response. While Abby tensed even more at his arrival, Rachel's eyes lit up. Until she squinted out into the darkness and saw Ethan's body on the side of the road. "Uncle Garrett?"

"Shhh, Rachel, it's okay. He's just sleeping."

"Sleeping like Daddy?" she asked waveringly.

"No kiddo, regular sleeping, not like Daddy."

Abby opened her mouth to question him, but her door opened before she got the chance. Elektra took a few steps back, giving her room to move. "In the car. Now."

Abby obeyed. She was on her feet and about to close the door when Rachel voiced her next question. "Are they coming with us, Uncle Garrett?"

"I don't know, Rachel. If they want to." He looked at Elektra in the rearview mirror. She said nothing, merely grabbed Abby's elbow, slammed the door shut, and led her charge towards the car parked behind them.

"What's going on?" Abby asked, as they approached Marr standing by the hood.

Elektra said nothing, releasing the teen as she joined her lover by the vehicle. "Give me the keys."

Matt shook his head. "You're not driving."

She glowered at him.

"Do you know what your blood pressure is right now?"

"Just give me the keys," she snapped.

Matt ignored her, turning sightless eyes on Abby. "How tired are you?"

"I can drive," Abby replied, even though she was ready to drop.

"She can't drive," Elektra refuted.

"You can't hold yourself up," Matt said firmly. It was then that Abby noticed how unsteady her mentor really was.

Elektra straightened, a move that brought obvious pain. "Give me the keys," she repeated.

"I can drive," Abby insisted.

"You're going to be out in about ten minutes," Matt stated. "Did you forget the bullet that hit your artery?"

"I did. Why don't you explain all the details for me? You weren't there, I was, I'm fine."

"Either she drives or I do," Matt replied.

Elektra looked between her two options for a long moment, clearly wondering if she could take the keys by force. "Fine," she finally decided, fixing rapidly-glazing eyes on Matt. "Gas right, brake left."

"You're joking." Regretting her tone, Abby threw the lawyer an apologetic glance. "No offense. But you _are _joking."

"Smashed fender cracked windshield, mechanic's bill you never worked off," Elektra replied dully.

"The light was green! It looked red because you have a color fixation."

Elektra's cell vibrated against her hip. She opened it without a greeting and waited. Abby could just make out Garrett's voice. He'd started his vehicle, but it remained idle in its spot. "We don't have all night. Are you coming or not?"

Elektra hung up on him. With effort, she turned from them, shooting Abby a warning look over her shoulder. "Follow the truck, try not to hit anything."

* * *

Matt had been right. Or at least he would be in a few minutes. Feeling herself slipping into sleep, Elektra was vaguely surprised by how much pain she was in. Pain that only worsened when the car thudded hard over something. Hopefully it was a bump. Elektra still questioned the intelligence of choosing Abby over the blind man.

"So…is Ethan still alive?"

Elektra just barely heard Matt confirm that he was. She couldn't force herself to decipher Abby's response, though she did hear a note of what could've been disappointment. Another bump sent her stomach rolling. It was amazing how quickly her body had betrayed her. Five minutes ago the adrenaline had won out over weakness from her injuries, but five minutes ago was an eternity now.

"_Uncle Garrett," Elektra said disbelievingly. _

_Garrett stared past her. Hollow-eyed, he spoke to Ethan in a flat, haunted voice. "How long did you know about this?"_

_Ethan raised a brow. She couldn't tell if he was more bored or annoyed._

"_Answer me, damn you! Did Stick know when I saw him the last time?"_

"_If he did, he obviously had reason not to tell you."_

"_She's family, Ethan. Do you get that? Do you have any concept of that?"_

"_We shouldn't be here; the girl needs to be taken somewhere safe."_

"_No. Not with you."_

_The blonde man sneered. "What are you saying, Mr. Pierce?"_

_Garrett advanced on him. "You're not taking my niece anywhere."_

"_I should've known you'd be the doting uncle. Especially since the girl hardly recognized you."_

"_Ethan," Elektra barked sharply. She didn't like the look in Garrett's eyes._

"_Burke," the hitman growled. "I just carried a seven year-old out of my brother's house so she wouldn't have to see her father's body. And then you tell me you can't bring him back, even though everybody and their dentist know somebody with a get-out-of-hell-free card."_

"_I tried, Mr. Pierce. Kimagure isn't an exact science."_

"_Then maybe you didn't try hard enough."_

_Matt broke in, hoping to diffuse the tension. "You said yourself there's nothing to go back to, where do you expect to take her?"_

_Ethan said nothing._

"_He's not taking her anywhere," Garrett mumbled. His expression was cold and anguished._

"_You'll take responsibility for her, Mr. Pierce? And when she finds out about your…situation, what then?"_

"_My _situation _is none of your fucking business," he snarled_

"_When it's linked with that of The Treasure, I have to disagree."_

_Garrett snapped. Like Matt before him, having his loved-one referred to as an object was too much. Unlike Matt, he didn't stop himself. "She has a name goddammit, she's not just a pawn in your stupid game__!"_

_Matt grabbed Garrett from behind, hauling him away from Burke. The hitman hadn't had time to throw a punch before his arms were pinned. While he struggled against the blind man, Elektra stepped in front of him._

"_Garrett," she said in a fierce whisper. He ignored her, still trying to get at Ethan. Angry herself, Elektra grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling out several hairs in the process. "Look at me!" she ordered, nails digging into his flesh._

_He kept fighting.. She twisted his neck so he was looking at the truck. "Don't do this now," she commanded. "Do you want her to see you like this?"_

_He swallowed hard, visibly deflating. "No."_

"_Then get it together," Elektra replied icily, turning his face back to hers. "Get it together and do the job."_

_He nodded once, as much as he could with her hold on his neck. "Get off me," he said quietly._

_Sensing Matt's reluctance, Elektra released Garrett and whispered for Matt to do the same. He did, with obvious hesitation. Then, before either could stop him, Garrett went for Ethan again. The bearded man was unconscious a second later. Elektra was stunned. Hand-to-hand wasn't Garrett's specialty, there was no logical explanation for what he'd just done._

"_He's not filling Rachel's head with the old man's bullshit," Garrett declared. Blinking hard, he swept his gaze over Elektra. "Christ do you look terrible."_

_Elektra glared coolly. _

"_I've got a little cabin. It's a drive, but it's somewhere to go before you pass out." He turned his back on her, taking a deep breath before walking towards the Dodge._

"_I think we need to go," Matt told her._

_She bit her lip._

"_There's no money, we're practically on top of a murder scene, and you need to rest."_

"_I've had worse."_

_Matt didn't seem comforted. "Abby needs a break."_

_Elektra shook her head and went to collect her charge. He was right, they did need somewhere to think, to plan. And Garrett…she wasn't used to Garrett like this. He'd always been calm and collected, at least in her presence, and frankly she didn't trust his judgment right now. They'd follow him, if only to make sure he didn't crash himself and the child into a tree._

_That's how it started with Mark and Abby. Get them to Stick, then get out. After that it became get them out of the country then get out. Then she'd finally gotten them to Stick and it still hadn't ended. _

_Shit, what was she doing?_

* * *

Garrett's 'little cabin' was easily worth two million dollars. On the edge of a lake, the place was three stories tall, surrounded by woods, and featured a dock, boathouse, and a porch running the length of the building.

"Where are we?" Elektra asked groggily. As predicted, she'd slept through most of the trip.

"Kent." Garrett relied as he carried a sleeping Rachel towards the front door. "Connecticut," he elaborated, seeing her blank look.

Elektra nodded, physically exhausted despite her nap in the car. "Did you hit anything?"

Abby looked away.

"It was fine," Matt covered for her. The teen smiled gratefully. No reason for Elektra to know about Chip and Dale, the tiny creatures on whom she'd committed vehicular homicide. At least they weren't deer. Having Bambi smack against the windshield would've been far more problematic.

Dawn was several hours away as they shuffled into the cabin, each looking tired and worn. The living room contained rustic furniture, a decent-sized TV and an empty fireplace. The kitchen it connected to was bigger than their apartment in Hell's Kitchen.

"One bathroom downstairs, two up, plenty of bedrooms," Garrett explained in a monotone. "Kitchen's stocked, there should be clothes in some of the drawers." Abby and Elektra looked at him strangely. "I came up here with Janelle a couple times, her stuff's still here." He left them then, taking the stairs like an old man. Elektra worried for him, then made herself stop.

"I'm going to bed," Abby declared flatly, following Garrett to the second floor.

Elektra stayed motionless, eyeing the stairs dubiously. She could make it, but it wouldn't be pleasant.

"I could carry you," Matt offered, only half-kidding.

"You could," Elektra replied, stepping around him to make the trek on her own.

* * *

Abby didn't sleep. She lay atop one of the spare beds, trying not to think of Garrett's unnamed brother. Seeing him like that reminded her too much of coming home to her dead mother. Mark had tried shielding her from the body, but she'd seen enough to give her nightmares for years. Come to think of it, the nightmares never actually stopped, only lessened.

And Rachel was going to go through the same thing.

She hid upstairs 'til she heard movement on the ground floor. Searching through a small closet, Abby found some clothes that were close to her size and changed. Her hair was messy and tangled, but in the grand scheme of things, she found the problem insignificant.

The adults were gathered in the oversized kitchen. Had she fallen asleep without knowing or was she not paying attention when everyone came down? Shrugging inwardly, Abby joined Elektra at a long wooden dining table. Matt was pouring himself a glass of water and, not even trying to stop herself, the teen snickered loudly.

Matt's eyebrows climbed in puzzlement. Garrett didn't look up from the pancakes he was making.

"You look like a lumberjack," Abby explained, eyeing his flannel shirt, old blue jeans, and brown work boots."

The lawyer studied his clothing as if he could actually see it, then took a sip from his beverage. "You want to buy me a few five-hundred dollar blazers, be my guest."

Abby tilted her head, a random thought popping into her brain. "Fuck. I was going to get you this awesome present and now you can't use it."

"Can you try to watch your mouth?" Elektra asked bitingly.

Abby made a big production of scanning the room, then stared wide-eyed at her guardian. "There's no mirror around, so how am I supposed to-?"

"Figure something out," the older woman snapped. She was tired and fairly miserable, just like the rest of them.

Abby shrugged. "It was a tie. With one of those eye tests on it. Like when you go to the DMV and you read the letters and they get smaller and smaller." She thought it would've been funny. In hindsight, it seemed rather offensive now.

Matt laughed anyway and Abby remembered why she liked him. He had a sense of humor, unlike certain others she was close to.

"And where were you going to get the money for this?" Elektra/Certain Other Person demanded to know.

The teen shrugged again. "Pocket my lunch money for a few weeks."

"The lunch money you got from me."

"It was a cool tie."

"What was the occasion?" Matt asked pleasantly, his birthday having passed ten months ago.

"I borrowed four of your CD's last year and I haven't seen them since. Got to fix my karma."

Garrett carried two plates to the table, dropping a few tablets next to Elektra's breakfast. Filling a glass of orange juice, he set that in front of her as well and waited expectantly.

"I'm not hungry," the former assassin declared.

Frowning, Matt came to sit on her other side. "You won't get your strength back if you don't eat," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"I said I'm not hungry."

"E," Garrett chimed in, "in case you haven't noticed, the situation here isn't the best. You're in pain already and it's only going to get worse. So would you _please_ just eat and take the pills so the rest of us can live with a semi-reasonable imitation of a human being instead of the Wicked Witch of the West?"

She would've hit him if she didn't know he'd been up all night, if Matt hadn't told her he was crying for much of that time. If she didn't know he was genuinely concerned. Matt and Abby looked at her sternly from either side while Garrett covered the front. Not appreciating the ambush tactics, Elektra swept the pills into her mouth and drained half the orange juice. Abby was satisfied, but the men continued to level disapproving stares at her.

"Those work better if you swallow," Matt finally told her.

Damn him. Damn both of them. Feeling like a child, Elektra forced down the pills for real this time. Nodding, Garrett started back to the stove until he saw his niece enter the room. Timidly, Rachel danced from foot to foot. She didn't look at Matt or Elektra, but brightened just slightly when she saw Abby.

Striding across the room, Garrett scooped her into his arms. Pasting on a fake smile, he set her on the edge of the counter. "Hey Rach, how are you doing?"

"I miss Daddy," she answered quietly.

"I know you do, I miss him too."

"You left," the blonde stated, suddenly accusatory. "You said you'd come back and you didn't."

"I didn't..your Daddy and I…he loved you so much that he wanted you all to himself."

"You and Daddy had a fight."

"No, Rachel, it wasn't a fight. Look, I'm here now, okay? Now you need to eat."

"I don't want to."

"Rachel, I made pancakes. You love pancakes."

"I don't want any," the child replied stubbornly.

Rubbing his temple, Garrett began searching through the cupboards. "Fine, I'll make you something else. You want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"I'm not hungry, Uncle Garrett."

"Sure you are, peanut butter and jelly's your favorite, remember?"

"No, turkey's my new favorite. You don't know because you weren't here."

Garrett lost patience. "Rachel, I know. I know that, but you need to eat, you need to do it now, you need to stop being mad at me."

Rachel cringed. Abby got mad. "Don't yell at her."

He hadn't really, but his voice was too sharp. Remorseful, he met Rachel's wounded gaze. "Sorry, kiddo. You sure you're not hungry?"

Rachel shook her head.

"Okay, that's okay." He looked at Abby and Elektra. The older woman had yet to touch her food. The teen was cutting pancakes into bites without eating them. "Hey Rach, you remember these people don't you?"

The child nodded.

"Yeah, well Abby and Elektra don't like their food. You want to help me make them something else?"

"'Kay," Rachel answered.

"Okay," Garrett smiled. Then he realized he hadn't made E's boyfriend a plate. Was that on purpose or not? He decided to remedy the problem before Elektra bit his head off.

At the table, Elektra and Abby traded frustrated glances. Both wanted the other to eat, but neither was willing to set the example. However, they had no choice in the matter anymore because both were also unwilling to turn down food from a second-grader mourning her father. It'd be the equivalent of putting a sai through a girl scout.

Matt, too, recognized what Garrett had done and found that he appreciated the man's creativity. The females would probably starve themselves for days simply because Matt told them not to.

* * *

After breakfast, Elektra left the other in the kitchen, pulling Garrett aside. "What happened with you and her father?"

"Nothing," he replied in agitation. "We used to run guns together, family business. We had a disagreement over funds, Jimmy packed up and told me to stay away."

Elektra looked at him skeptically.

"Look, I don't need an inquisition from you. Any other day maybe but not now." His expression started to crumble and a muscle twitched in his arm. "My brother's dead and I can't even bury him."

Sighing, Elektra tried to keep her emotions in check. "You need a break." It was true. He'd snapped at the girl over little things, taking out his anger on a kid he obviously loved.

Garrett waved away her statement, even though he was the one who could barely hold himself up now. "I have to make some calls, see if Lena..."

"Lena?"

"Rachel's mother."

"Mother? I thought she was dead?" She _had _to be dead if...

"She probably is. Unless the legend isn't completely literal. She left after Rachel was born; Jimmy told her she was in heaven. It doesn't really matter, I just…I have to be sure, I have to do something."

"Garrett..."

"Don't tell me how to grieve. Jesus. Do you realize how insane this is? That Rachel…is that why? Is that why Stick recruited me? Could he know that far into the future?"

He was rambling, losing control. Elektra dug her nails into his forearm to bring him back. "I don't know."

He nodded, marginally calmer. "I have to…" He trailed off again, gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen. Elektra let go of his arm and followed him back to the group.

Rachel had taken the chair next to Abby's, and Garrett crouched in front of her now, affecting a low murmur. "Hey, kid. I'm going into town for a little while and you're going to hang out with these guys."

"But I want to come with you."

"You can't, Rach. It'll just be me doing boring, grown-up stuff."

Rachel remained unconvinced.

"Sweetie, help me out here and I'll stop at the toy store on the way back."

When in doubt, resort to bribery. Clearly unhappy, Rachel let her uncle go after multiple promises that he would actually come back. Before he left, Garrett pulled the other three out of her hearing range. "Don't say anything about my job."

"What exactly does she think you do?" Elektra questioned.

"I sell life insurance," he replied after a beat of silence.

Abby scoffed, searching her mind for the cover story Elektra used during their first meeting. "Life insurance. Guess that works as well as layoffs and payroll reductions."

Elektra scowled while Matt languished in ignorance. And then Garrett was gone, leaving them with a frightened seven-year-old. Rachel eyed the adults distrustfully, especially when she noticed Matt's blank eyes.

"It's okay," Abby assured her. "He's the nice one." Then, seeming to realize Elektra was still in the room, "Her too. Mostly. Want to go see the lake?"

She did. Matt smirked as they retreated, Abby holding Rachel's hand securely. "I'm the nice one," he repeated in amusement.

"Good for you," Elektra replied dryly. "You can also be the one to get the bags from the car."

Not giving him a chance to argue, Elektra spun on her heel and graabed the remote in search of a news station.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Lousy muse keeping me up all night. Better than doing homework though. Anyway, this is another sort of nothing chapter, at least in terms of action. Like last time, there are some character beats I really enjoyed writing though, so please keep flames to a minimum. My ramblings out of the way, read, enjoy, and remember, feedback is a writer's best friend.

* * *

Garrett returned several hours later with enough toys to keep thirty children entertained. Rachel ignored the gifts, clinging to his neck with a death grip.

"You came back," she declared, clearly surprised.

"Told you so."

"Am I going to stay with you now?"

Abby and Elektra bore witness to the exchange, the older woman puzzling over what she saw next. Instead of answering, Garrett held his niece tighter, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Uncle Garrett?"

Eyes closing briefly, the hitman eased Rachel away, offering an overly bright grin. "I got you some new clothes, kiddo." He nodded at one of the bags.

"But Uncle Garrett-"

"Rach," he interjected gently, "take the clothes upstairs, see if they fit. Play fashion show."

"Daddy knew the bad men were coming. He said they wanted me 'cause I'm special."

Face twisting, Garrett turned away from the child.. There was a haziness in his eyes that made Elektra wonder if he'd stopped at a bar on the way back.

"You are special, kid," he finally responded, turning to stare into the empty fireplace.

Rachel waited, frowning when nothing more was offered. "Are they going to come back?"

Elektra waited, waited some more, waited for him to reassure the frightened child. That reassurance would more than likely be a lie, but so what? That's what you did; lied to make it bearable.\

"Nobody's hurting you," Abby said fiercely, leaving the couch to drop down next to Rachel. "Nobody."

Elektra swallowed hard, knowing Abby had heard those words before, occasionally from Elektra herself.

Rachel nodded tentatively, but continued to stare at Garrett. "You won't leave again, right? I can stay with you and you can keep the bad men away?"

Facing the others, Garrett tried and failed to appear strong. "You'll be safe, Rach. Nobody's hurting you."

'You'll be safe. Not 'I'll stay with you.' Abby shot him a venomous glare. "I'm going for a walk," she announced, barely restrained fury seeping into her voice. Rachel opened her mouth as \\\\\if to protest, but the teen was already out the door.

"Rach, go try on your clothes. I got Spongebob shirts."

The blonde regarded him with hurt eyes. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, kiddo."

"You only talk like that when you're mad."

"I'm not mad, Rachel." Sighing, he gestured towards the bags again. "Go try your shirts on."

"I don't like Spongebob anymore," the girl replied timidly, anticipating a reprimand.

"Of course you don't," Garrett mumbled. Without another word, he grabbed some of the bags and carried them into the kitchen. Brows raised, Elektra smiled in what she hoped was a comforting manner, even though Matt was supposedly the nice one. She offered to help the girl carry her things upstairs, but Rachel declined. One more bewildered glance at her uncle and she was climbing slowly to her room, unwanted Spongebob garments in hand.

Elektra waited 'til she'd made it safely up the stairs before joining Garrett in the kitchen, speaking in an angry whisper. "What are you doing?"

"I didn't have any kid food," he replied, mechanically placing things in the cupboards and fridge. Pulling out a bag of Skittles, he tore it open and began rummaging through a nearby drawer.

"You can't do this with her."

"Where's the bottle?" he asked, completely ignoring her comment.

"What bottle?"

"The pills. I gave them to you and I put them here and they're not here."

Elektra frowned. "You're self-medicating?"

A grunt was the only response. Finding his prize, Garrett twisted the cap loose, shook a few tablets into his hand and returned to the Skittles bag. Grabbing a handful of brightly colored candy, he mixed the sweets with the meds and downed everything. While Matt tended to gnaw pills like a horse, Garrett swallowed without chewing.

She told herself it was no big deal. Matt was addicted to three separate medications. Years ago, Elektra herself had bought sleeping pills in bulk, hoping to silence the demons in her mind. It hadn't worked, but still. Garrett's breath was clean, so at least he wasn't drinking.

"I got muffins. No blueberries this time."

Elektra gave him a look, recalling the breakfast in his apartment earlier that week, the way he smirked as he presented the stale, blueberry-laden pastries he knew she wouldn't eat.

"Rachel's allergic to blueberries." He smiled ruefully. "Or maybe she's not anymore."

Out of patience, Elektra grabbed his forearm, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You can miss your brother all you want," she began.

"My brother was a dick," he interrupted tersely. "Selfish and stupid and overbearing." His shoulders dropped. "Except with her. Jimmy was a different person with her."

"Well Jimmy's not here."

"But I am."

Elektra nodded infinitesimally.

Yanking his arm free, Garrett turned towards the living room. "Poor kid's in serious trouble," he muttered.

* * *

Abby didn't take her eyes off the TV when Matt walked in, nor when he joined her on the couch. It was their second full day in Connecticut and the teen had managed about three hours sleep all together.

"What are you watching?"

Overly casual. He was trying to start a serious conversation without _trying _to start one. "_Chasing Amy_. It's over now."

"What's the verdict?"

"It didn't suck. The main guy looked a lot like you actually, even sounded the same."

"Hmmm. And did the main guy save the world?"

"Nope," Abby responded, switching the channel to a horde of screaming children and their frustrated parents. "He fell in love, then he found out the woman played for the other team. Then he turned her around."

Matt's eyebrows climbed to his hairline. "This guy reminded you of me?"

"Yup. He basically was you, except with a beard."

"So I live happily ever after with a lesbian?"

"No, you break up. And you find out your best friend's bi and he's in love with you. Then you ask the best friend and the lesbian to have a threesome with you." Abby made a face. That part of the film had given her a disturbing image of Foggy, Matt, and Elektra that she couldn't yet shake.

The blind man's expression was rather priceless. "Where is everybody?" he asked after a long, long silence.

Abby sank deeper into the couch. He knew that, he had to; he was just trying to ease into the serious conversation they weren't going to have. "Rachel's in her room. Garrett gave her a coloring book."

"And he's…?"

"In his room. Cleaning the guns."

"Elektra?'

"In your room. Cleaning the knives," Abby replied flatly. Then she stood from the couch and went for the front door. "I'm taking a walk."

"You took three in two hours," Matt pointed out.

"Fresh air, no muggers, don't need to carry mace, she retorted, leaving him with the television for company.

* * *

Day three was the last straw. Garrett was functioning again, loving to Rachel, civil to the rest of them. Abby was a different story. Rachel had taken a liking to her predecessor, and when the kid was around, Abby played with her and talked to her and did a good job at being happy. When Rachel wasn't there, the teen channel surfed for hours on end, mixing things up by disappearing into the woods until Elektra or Matt forced her back inside. When Abby went jogging in the pouring rain wearing shorts and a t-shirt and refused to come in, Elektra had had enough.

"We're going out," she announced after the rain stopped. Garrett was adding logs to the fire, Abby staring zombie-like at the TV. Rachel was doing the same puzzle for the fourth time.

Striding in front of the TV, Elektra turned it off, locking eyes with her protégé. "Get some shoes on."

"I don't want to go."

"I don't care." To Garrett, "You have the keys to the truck?"

The hitman turned to face her, eyes hazy again. "More than one vehicle."

Elektra glanced at the child on the floor. "Yours has heated seats." And bulletproof windows and siding.

Shrugging, he pulled a key ring from his pocket, tossing it from one hand to the other. "Are we all going or is this a female bonding thing?"

"Female bonding thing?" Abby repeated doubtfully. "Are we going to the mall?"

Garrett threw the keys to Elektra. His arm jerked at the last moment and she had to step left to make the catch. His movements were slow and jerky as he bent to help Rachel put away the puzzle.

"Tell her I don't have to go," Abby demanded. Matt, who'd just entered the room, pretended not to hear her.

Irritated, Abby glanced from one to the other. "You're doing the united front thing again aren't you?"

"Shoes. And a jacket," Elektra replied crisply.

Fuming, Abby left the group, calling Matt a traitor as she trudged upstairs.

Abby took her time getting ready. Matt and Elektra used that time to slip aside, the blind man running his hands lightly over her sides. "Sure I can't come?"

Elektra shook her head, trailing her fingers along his cheek. They'd already agreed on this. Abby liked using Matt as a distraction, knowing that he was less likely to push for what he wanted. It was better Elektra did this alone.

Matt brushed her lips with his own. "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

Hearing Abby descend to the stairs, Elektra kissed him back, surprised by how difficult it was to pull away. "Garrett bought Legos,"

The lawyer tilted his head sideways, lips quirking in a crooked smile. "Get the bags, watch the child. Am I worth anything to you besides as a packhorse or a daycare service?"

Elektra mimicked the head tilt. "Don't hog the toys."

* * *

"You left them alone? Together?"

Ignoring the oxymoron, Elektra regarded her charge from across the table.

"There's a grenade launcher under one of the floorboards, what if they start fighting over you?"

About to take a drink of her water, Elektra was glad she'd waited the extra second. "You need to get some sleep."

"He still likes you, it could happen."

Elektra scowled.

"He didn't shoot you in the face when we showed up. He still likes you."

The waitress came by, saving Elektra from having to respond. Ordering for herself, Elektra spoke for Abby as well.

"Ice cream," Abby said after the woman left.

Elektra nodded.

"For lunch."

"You won't get anything better."

"What's that mean?"

"Rachel wants Matt and Garrett to go fishing."

"Fishing? Matt doesn't fish."

"I know."

"And you're going to let him?"

Elektra said nothing.

"What if Garrett kills him and dumps the body in the lake?"

The older woman forced herself not to choke on her beverage.

"Does Garrett fish?"

"There's a boat, fishing poles, I assume he does." She assumed, but didn't trust him to actually bring back anything.

"What if he doesn't know what he's doing? Could be Titanic without the iceberg."

The older woman decided not to point out the flaws in that logic. "Go with them. You said Mark used to fish."

Abby stared at her napkin. "That was a long time ago."

Pressing her lips together, Elektra let the silence stretch until their server returned. Smiling, the woman placed an overflowing banana split in front of Abby and a salad in front of Elektra. "Haven't seen you two before," the waitress said pleasantly.

"We're vacationing," Elektra replied, politely.

"Some vacation," Abby muttered.

"You not enjoying our town, honey?"

"She's trying to make up for sending me to reform school. This is my last week of freedom before she sends me back. They hit you with rulers there."

The look on Elektra's face sent the waitress scurrying away without comment. Abby swirled the ice cream around with disinterest. "I'm not depressed."

"No one said you were."

"You always do this when you think I'm depressed. Bribe me with junk food like I'm five."

Elektra leaned forward, choosing her words carefully. "This can't be easy."

"Be easier if we got more stations. I sat through a four hour marathon of _Jon and Kate Plus 8_. How does having mass amounts of kids suddenly entitle you to a TV show?"

"Abby."

"I know. You think it reminds me of my parents. It's fine, I'm over it."

"You don't _get over_ that."

"You do what you have to do, right? Isn't that one of your mantras? Anyway there's no point freaking about it, nothing's going to change."

"You're not talking about Mark."

"The Treasure doesn't end things, right? The balance just tips from one side to the other for a few years. So that makes it pointless. Her dad, mine, that's all pointless because the war doesn't end."

"Hey," Elektra began, unsure what she could possibly say in the face of that hopelessness.

"Don't. I'm cool with it."

The older woman shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm tired," the teen announced suddenly.

"That happens when you stay up for seventy-two hours."

"Can't help it. Unless we manage to not get arrested and I go to Insomniacs Anonymous."

"So take something for it."

"I don't like pills."

"Is that because you don't like them or because I don't like them?"

"Please. I stopped doing the copy thing once I realized you really weren't cool."

"Thank you."

"Don't be like that, you said yourself you weren't." The girl raised a hand to her mouth to cover a sneeze.

"I told you to get out of the rain."

"I don't get sick. I haven't been sick since I was ten and I overplayed that to get out of a history report." She sneezed again. "Don't get all hovery, I hate it when you go psycho with the protective thing."

"Hovery? That's not a word."

"So make it one. You don't see 'Kimagure' in the dictionary. Why'd you push Garrett off a building?"

Elektra blinked in confusion.

"Before we left to get Rachel. Garrett said you pushed him off a building in Venice."

"Verona," Elektra corrected automatically.

"Whatever. Why'd you push him off?"

Elektra frowned. In Matt's absence, her charge was using Garrett to avoid the topic. She thought about asking what he'd done at the hospital to make the girl so angry, but recognized the futility of it. Of near equal importance was the fact that Elektra had no desire to tell that particular story. Though she imagined Abby would be thrilled by any tale involving Garrett and physical harm, there were certain things that were simply too hard to explain or defend, even if the building in question hadn't been very tall.

* * *

"She's not going to like this," Matt stated.

"What she likes and what she needs aren't usually the same," Elektra retorted, adding a liberal amount of marshmallows to the hot chocolate.

"As long as I don't have to explain it to her."

"You said you wanted something other than babysitter and packhorse."

Matt held up his hands. "Not what I meant."

"In other words, you like it better when I play bad cop."

"Am I under oath here?"

Smiling, Elektra carried the drink to Abby's room, finding her shivering on the bed.

"Don't start," the teen warned, wrapping herself in a heavy blanket.

"I'm not the one who went jogging in the rain in forty-five degree weather," Elektra pointed out, setting the mug on the nightstand.

"Do we need to get into you and Matt and your make-out sessions every time it drizzles?"

"Abby."

"What? If I'd been kissing a tree instead of running would that-"

The older woman quirked a brow as Abby's statement dissolved into a coughing fit. "I don't get sick," the teen insisted after regaining control.

"Fine," Elektra responded. "Sleep."

"Can't."

"Try."

"It's light out."

"Sleep anyway."

"Yes, Mom," Abby snapped. It was sarcasm, but it still left the air heavy. Biting her lip, the teen turned her attention to the mug. "Did you spike this?"

A beat of silence. "Yes."

Abby blinked. "Seriously?"

"No," Elektra replied, closing the door as she left.

* * *

"Liar," Matt accused as she joined him in their room a few moments later.

"Eavesdropper."

"E," he said, listening as she opened and closed a drawer, "I either hear you, or the squirrels doing their mating dance."

About to change clothes, Elektra halted her task.

"The sad part is that you think I'm kidding," he deadpanned. Coming up behind her, Matt helped ease the shirt from her shoulders, pausing when he detected a catch in her breathing. "Okay?"

"It's nothing," she replied, annoyed that the bullet wound continued to give her trouble.

"You should be taking it easy," Matt said worriedly, grabbing a more loose-fitting top.

"I am," she insisted, taking the shirt from him and putting it on herself. That done, she let her eyes roam over him, focusing on the new collection of cuts and bruises from his jailhouse confrontations and the brawl with Fisk's men. Frowning, she unbuttoned his shirt, running gentle fingers over the marks on his chest. His stomach and rib cage were black-and-blue, and she stopped her examination when he drew in a quick breath.

"Nothing," he minimized before she could speak.

"Liar."

"Everybody lies."

God she hated when he quoted her. As if she didn't get more than enough of that from Abby. Leaning in to dust a feather-light kiss on his sternum, Elektra pushed his open shirt to the floor.

"You know," Matt started, pausing to drop kisses down her neck, "any ideas I had about taking you on a cabin getaway didn't include wearing your ex's clothes."

"You do look like a lumberjack," Elektra responded, his ministrations leaving her slightly breathless.. Only half-aware she was doing it, Elektra pushed him towards the bed.

"Not my fault," he murmured, hitting the mattress with her on top of him. Trailing his hands up her back, he then moved them under her tank top, stopping when he reached a bra clasp.

"What are you doing?" Elektra demanded, kissing him hard before he could answer.

"Your shoulder," he said a moment later, breathing hard after the prolonged lack of oxygen.

Elektra made a dismissive sound, fumbling with his belt. "You started it."

"Not this time,' he refuted, making a half-hearted attempt at stilling her movements.

Damn, she hated when he was right. "Are you complaining?" she asked, pulling gently at his hair then kissing his scalp to make up for it.

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "I _was_ in jail for a long time."

"Less than a week," she pointed out, tossing the belt aside.

"Your sympathy makes it so much easier," he replied, changing his mind about the bra. "Haven't seen a woman in years."

"Not funny," Elektra shot back, taking a moment to nibble on his earlobe.

"I know," he acknowledged, a shudder running through him. "I almost lost you. Again."

"And I came back," she told him. She understood though, better than he knew. They had a bad habit of losing each other and, now that the painkillers were out of her system and she allowed herself to really think, Elektra understood how close things had come.

"No," he muttered, tracing the stitches on her shoulder with extreme care. "I should've been there."

"You were," she replied, frustrating herself by confusing him. It wasn't the time or place to explain that she'd hallucinated his presence, especially when one of those hallucinations involved the memory of having sex with Garrett.

Looking rather pained, Matt caught her hands in his, easing her to rest on his chest. The wince he let out was almost, but not quite inaudible.

"I'm hurting you," she said, trying to pull away, but he kept her in place.

"You're fine. We just can't do this now."

"Abby's probably asleep."

"She _is _asleep. No one else is."

And then she could hear it, just barely picking up Rachel's soft cries from downstairs. A moment later and Garrett's voice came in, a soft, consoling murmur. It hurt Elektra to listen to; she didn't want to think what it did to Matt. "Dammit."

"I know. Is he going to be okay with her?"

"He wouldn't hurt that kid, Matt."

"Long term."

"He's grieving, nobody's totally clear like that." She knew what he was thinking, having told him about the pills. Then there were the mood swings, but he seemed to be moving past those. But still…he wasn't himself yet, not even halfway to normal.

Normal. Himself. What did she really know about that? He was someone else entirely when Rachel was around.

"He cares for you."

Not this again, not from him. "Maybe he does, he's got other things to deal with."

A beat of silence. "He said he proposed."

Elektra scoffed. Garrett's 'proposal' had taken place in a Nevada hotel while he was too drunk to speak. He'd slurred out the question, referred to her as Eleanor, then vomited in an ice bucket before losing consciousness. "You were talking about me?"

Matt tensed, changing the subject a bit too fast. "He cheats at cards."

"So does Abby."

"Not in front of small children."

Elektra pictured the men trading stories about her idiosyncrasies and made a mental note to hurt both of them at a later time. "Poker?"

"Uno."

Elektra couldn't be sure, but thought she detected a hint of jealousy, something that both amused and exasperated her "He's not you," she declared quietly, demonstrating the point by invading his mouth with her tongue.

"I know," Matt replied hoarsely. "I don't wear God-awful cologne."

"Garrett doesn't wear cologne."

"So the burnt grass smell coming off him is natural?" he joked

Pinned as he was, Matt couldn't dodge the pillow she rewarded him with.

* * *

When she next came downstairs, Garrett was sitting at the kitchen table, a new laptop in front of him. Next to that was a plate of undercooked fries smothered in ketchup. A red spot on his collar stood testament to his impeccable table manners. On seeing her, he offered a small nod.

"Where's Rachel?" Elektra asked, trying not to see the dirty dishes in the sink. She recalled the eating binges he'd indulge in after a successful job. And a successful night of alcohol poisoning.

"She uh, she had a nightmare, didn't want to talk to me." His chin rested in his hand, the fingers of which were trembling minutely. A small jolt ran through her when she realized the shaking hand wasn't the one she'd twisted in her fit of anger. Studying him more closely, Elektra noted how bad he looked. No, not bad. Strung out.

"I tracked her mother to New Mexico but it was an old address. She was more of an idiot than Jimmy. Probably stuck a fork in a toaster and fried herself"

Elektra couldn't decipher his tone. When he'd mentioned Lena before, his whole being radiated disgust, anger at the woman for abandoning her child. Now…now he seemed almost disappointed.

"I should've given her to Ethan."

Elektra blinked in surprise. Days ago he was bound and determined to keep the child away from Burke and anyone else. Now this?

"I can't do this," he continued flatly. His skin was pale and oily as he rubbed bloodshot eyes.

Sighing, Elektra went to stand across from him as he closed the computer screen. "It gets easier," she said, remembering the fear that came when she decided to keep Abby with her, no longer having the option of playing mentor, indulging in the occasional visit, and leaving the hard stuff to Mark.

He snorted, blowing air through his teeth. "You're lying."

She was, but that's what you did in situations like this. Lied to make it bearable.

The hitman laughed bitterly. "Never thought I'd be soliciting you for parenting advice."

"Never thought I'd be giving it," she admitted."You'll be fine." Whether or not she believed it, there wasn't much else she could say.

That same bitter laugh. "Fine. Is that because you were?"

Elektra said nothing.

"What you did for Abby was different," he said flippantly.

That was obvious, but she suspected Garrett's reasoning wasn't the same as hers. "Why?"

He waved dismissively. "You're you."

Elektra shook her head, not liking the way his muddled brown eyes were looking at her. Rachel's eyes, she realized suddenly. "Garrett-"

"I can't do it," he said again.

"You think you have a choice?"

"No, you don't understand, I _can't _do it."

Light footsteps disrupted their excuse for a conversation. Rachel joined them a moment later, frowning as she pulled on her uncle's shirtsleeve. "Are you sick?"

Straightening, Garrett attempted a smile. "No, kiddo."

"Abby's sick."

"Just a little. She'll be better soon."

The girl swiveled her gaze to Elektra. "Is it okay if I make her a picture so she'll feel better?"

"Yeah," Elektra replied, smiling in spite of herself. "I'm sure she'd like that a lot."

Pleased, the child addressed Garrett again, sobering almost immediately "Are you sad?"

He froze for a second. "Yeah, Rachel."

"But Daddy said-"

"How about you, kiddo? You feeling any better?"

Rachel stared at the floor. Garrett shot Elektra a pleading look. She had no idea what he expected her to do, but recognized with a jolt that she'd somehow become the unofficial expert on gifted orphans.

With effort, Elektra held on to the curse that wanted to escape her lips.

* * *

Matt was leaning against the doorframe when Abby woke up. Sluggishly, the teen sat up, leveling an irritated scowl on him. "Traitor. You let her do it."

"I didn't see a thing," the blind man retorted.

"Funny. Hilarious. How long was I out?"

"Long enough."

"She put you on guard duty. Well go tell her I'm not sick."

"She says you either get in on the next game or you stay in here not being sick. No TV, no going outside."

"Game?" she parroted blankly. "Elektra's playing a game."

The lawyer nodded. "Candy Land."

"Candy Land. Elektra's playing Candy Land."

Another nod.

"_Willingly_? Did you drug her?"

"No, Abby."

"And…it's her? Not a shapeshifter or an evil twin clone?"

"Rachel...Rachel's having a rough time. Garrett's trying to distract her for awhile."

"So…Elektra's playing Candy Land. That _is _what you're saying?" The theme from _The Twilight Zone _suddenly came to mind.

"I told her you weren't that sick. You either stay in bed or come by the fire and break her winning streak."

Orders from the warden. Five minutes later, Abby descended the stairs, finding it difficult to keep her jaw closed. The sight of her mentor playing a children's game was only slightly less traumatizing then returning from lunch to find Matt and Garrett gathered around a pink dollhouse while Rachel explained the complicated relationship between Ken and Barbie

"I hate you sometimes," Abby muttered, still groggy from the sleeping pill mixed in the hot chocolate.

"You've mentioned it," Elektra replied, making room for her on the couch. Next to Garrett, Rachel smiled at the new company.

"You're a jerk," the teen went on. "And he's a jerk's accomplice," she declared, tilting her head in Matt's direction as he sat next to Elektra.

"You slept."

"You drugged me."

"Told you I did."

"I hate you," Abby declared again. Then she settled in to play board games with her fugitive guardians, the living weapon, and the living weapon's gun-infatuated uncle.

* * *

"This is bull…crap." Garrett muttered, glancing at his niece. "I'm an accountant."

"Congratulations," Elektra deadpanned.

"Accountants make more than thirty thousand a year."

"You're probably a bad accountant," Abby told him.

He gave her a sharp look. "You're a cop. Cops don't make more than accountants."

"The salary cards are separate from the career cards," Abby explained for the fifth time. "This was your idea and you're ruining it."

"My idea was Monopoly."

"Ruining it," Abby repeated.

"Yeah, Uncle Garrett. Quit being mean."

He gave Abby another look. "Stop corrupting my niece."

"Can you just spin, please?" Matt asked tiredly.

Scowling, Garrett took his turn, making a grab for his plastic car game piece.

"You owe me five grand," Abby stated.

Garrett's hand stilled in midair. "I haven't even moved."

"You sped; you owe me five thousand dollars."

"I haven't moved. I can't speed if I haven't moved."

"You spun a ten. That's speeding." Abby held out her hand.

"Did I hit a bus load of nuns, too? How does anyone wind up with a five thousand dollar speeding ticket?"

"Just give her the money, Garrett."

"I don't have enough for a five thousand dollar ticket, Elektra." He was still fuming over losing to her at Scrabble

"I'll take everything you've got, plus the stocks and your Life tiles."

"She's cheating, I know she's cheating."

"Actually that was you," Matt stated, looking significantly towards the deck of cards on the other side of the table.

Smirking, Garrett gave everything he had to Abby, eyes dancing as he caught Elektra's gaze. "Oh well. Maybe it wasn't nuns; maybe I hit Burke at eighty miles an hour."

"Was he the one who talked funny?" Rachel asked shyly.

"Yeah, kiddo," her uncle replied carefully. "He had an accent."

"I didn't like him."

"That's okay, Rach, _nobody _likes him."

"He talked like the other man. I didn't like him either."

Garrett's smile faded. "What other man?"

"The one who used to talk to Daddy. He had the same…accent."

"Why didn't you like him?" Garrett asked sharply. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, he was just weird. One time when he came over I drew a picture with a smiley face, and he threw a pencil in its eye from really far away."

Garrett shot the others a quick look, noting the lack of color in Abby's face and the rigidness of Elektra's shoulders. "What'd he look like?"

"Mean. But his head was funny. He had a dart board right here," Rachel explained, indicating the middle of her forehead.

"Dart board," Garrett repeated numbly.

The child thought a moment. "Sorry, I got it wrong. It wasn't the whole board, just the thing in the middle."

"You mean the bull's eye?" Matt clarified, tone making it clear that he already knew the answer.

Rachel nodded triumphantly. "Yeah! The bull's eye."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Hello again, everyone. School's in full swing, but I'm trying to keep the updates somewhat regular. As always, feedback keeps the muse going, so hit that nice green button before you leave.

Sting wrote 'Every Breath You Take,' not me. It may or not be a stalker song.

"We're gonna get through this."

"How can you be sure?"

"How can I not be, we're still here."

I shamelessly stole these lines from an episode of Alias. Sadly, I can't remember which ep it was, but I acknowledge that the lines were shamelessly stolen. By the way, if you _haven't _seen Jennifer Garner on Alias, go away. Seriously, go away, watch the pilot episode, marvel at the awesomeness of a show that's better than anything I've ever written lol.

* * *

"Hand me the oregano," Garrett requested/demanded without sparing her a glance.

Blinking in surprise, Elektra did as instructed, but only after a pause lasting more than thirty seconds. "You cook?" she asked flatly. He'd handled most of the food preparations over the last four days, causing the garbage to overflow with the remains of TV dinners and frozen pizzas. Now though, the scent of Italian was thick in the air. Real Italian, they'd finished off the last frozen pizza yesterday.

He shrugged, then picked up a knife and started chopping onions at an impressive speed. "Once every ten years or so. Stress relief."

"I thought that's what cleaning the guns was for," she replied.

He looked at her in puzzlement. "No, that's just fun."

She couldn't tell if he was serious or not, not until his lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. "Italian at nine in the morning?"

"I wanted ravioli."

Eyebrows raised, Elektra went to the pantry, pulling out a can of Chef Boyardee.

"That is _not _ravioli," Garrett declared. "That is shit in a can."

"Then why'd you buy it?"

He shrugged a second time. "Kids _like _shit in a can. You, I thought you'd have better tastes."

Watching his movements, Elektra noticed that both his hands were twitching, albeit minutely. "You need to get off the pills."

A joyless bark of laughter. "Are we having an intervention now?"

"They're affecting you."

"They're _drugs_, E; if they weren't affecting me I'd want my money back." He started to say something else that turned into a muffled curse as the knife sliced against his finger. Scowling, he put a Band-Aid on the small cut while Elektra looked on in silence. "You staged that," he accused.

Elektra gave him another pointed scowl.

Sighing he leaned against the counter, brown eyes meeting green. "I know, I overdid it. It's been a lousy few days."

The scowl turned into a frown.

"I flushed most of them out last night."

"Most?"

"Most, but if you need any X, let me know."

She was fairly sure he was joking this time, but found herself less-than amused. "Garrett-"

"E," he cut in, "I've got a handle on it. Scout's Honor." To illustrate, he raised his hand in a three-finger salute.

"You were a boy scout?" Elektra asked dubiously.

"I killed a senator once who used to be a boy scout. Anyway, keep this up and I might start thinking you care."

The former assassin made a derisive noise in the back of her throat, turning away from him when Matt entered the room. The blind man smiled, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "Italian at nine?"

Garrett rolled his eyes. "Christ, do you people have a rule against non-breakfast food for breakfast?"

"Actually she can't even handle cold pizza for breakfast," Abby stated, from atop the second floor landing.

The hitman looked rather startled. "Are you serious?" he wondered incredulously. "Good God."

"It's the OCD," the teen continued as she joined them moments later. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore loose-fitting workout clothes. "Dinner food at breakfast puts stuff out of order and it freaks her out."

"What happens at brunch?"

Abby frowned, rubbing her eyes as she considered. "Don't know, we've never done brunch. She'd probably go into a panic attack or something."

"Or something," Garrett smirked.

Unfazed by her guardian's death-glare, Abby snagged a piece of garlic bread from a plate on the table, then headed for the back door. Frowning again, Elektra moved around the counter, placing a hand on the teen's arm. "You're not going out."

Irritated, Abby looked past Elektra to Matt. "You said I wasn't that sick."

"I didn't say you _weren't _sick."

Putting a hand to Abby's forehead, Elektra tried not to show hurt when the girl flinched away. "Back in a few," Abby muttered, door closing softly behind her.

"Let her go," Matt advised. "Get it out of her system."

"I let her get it out of her system last night and she ended up working herself past exhaustion."

"God only knows where she picked that up," Garrett mumbled.

"Go to hell," Elektra replied flatly.

"Still not a morning person huh?"

"I'll talk to Abby," Matt declared, giving Elektra's fingers a gentle squeeze before leaving. Apparently he'd decided to take himself out of this one.

"The kid had him watching a Dr. Phil episode on tag-team parenting while she was atrophying in front of the TV yesterday," Garrett explained.

Right, of course she had. Exasperated, the billionaire's daughter watched him stir marinara sauce with a wooden spoon. He spoke again just as the silence was becoming too awkward. "I don't…I don't know what it is that I'm supposed to say to you."

Sighing inwardly, Elektra clenched her fingers against the counter. "It's not your problem."

Garrett stopped stirring. "No," he acknowledged softly, "it's not."

And there was that tone he sometimes used with her, the one that made him sound almost like Matt. Elektra made herself think of other things, none of which were pleasant.

"_Rachel," Garrett said quietly. "The mean man, how often did he come to see Jimm—Daddy?"_

"_Not a lot, just a couple times. He used to call a lot though. I'd answer the phone and it would be him and Daddy would take the phone in the other room."_

"_And you…you don't know what they talked about right?"_

"_No, Daddy had his office made special so you couldn't hear inside when the door was shut."_

"_When did you see him last? You remember, kiddo?"_

"_Yeah." The child made a disgusted face, seeming to cringe at the memory. "Not last week, the one before that."_

_Something clicked in Garrett's mind, his eyes glazing over just slightly. "Two weeks ago," he repeated._

"_Yup. Daddy was really mad that time because the bull's eye man ruined my birthday." She paused, considered something. "How come you stopped sending me cards? I liked your birthday cards."_

"_Yeah," Garrett mumbled distractedly. "That damn Hallmark store sure is amazing."_

"_You said bad word."_

"_Sorry, babe."_

"_You didn't call, you didn't send cards, how come?"_

"_Because…because I couldn't Rachel, okay? I'll buy you a pony next year."_

"Your brother sold guns?"

"As far as I knew," Garrett replied, focused again on his cooking.

"He was your brother; I'd think you'd know what he did for a living."

"Last time I saw him was right around the last time I spoke to you," he shot back testily. "He still had the arms business then, if he started something new I'd be the last to know about it."

Elektra's lips pressed together in a thin line. She highly doubted that Bullseye, the man who'd once tried to cut her carotid artery with a playing card, had suddenly developed an interest in guns. Then there was the issue of why he hadn't made a move yet. He'd been back all that time, been in a Queens airport for God's sake's and nothing. Unless he was the one who shot her, but that didn't make sense either. He wouldn't use a gun, of that she was sure, and he would've made sure she was dead this time. Then he would've killed Abby and Garrett.

"Fucking idiot!" Garrett exclaimed suddenly. "I told him not to get involved with these whack jobs…" He trailed off, eyes flashing dangerously. "Goddamn fucking moron."

Having to edit himself around the child seemed to be proving difficult. Elektra wondered vaguely if he was trying to purge himself of the foul language while Rachel was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered something, something she hadn't given a thought to at the time. Without her permission, her lips curved into a disbelieving half-smile.

"What?" Garrett asked, glancing up long enough to notice the changed expression.

Elektra shook her head, forgetting momentarily about the mountain of problems bearing down on her. "Denver, that phone call. You weren't lying."

Searching his memory, Garrett suddenly realized what she meant, ginning fully for the first time in days. "No, no I wasn't. Christ do I wish I had been though."

They both heard the door swing open, listened as small feet moved slowly down the stairs. Rachel came in a moment later, eyes tinged red. Garrett's smile dimmed, but he forced it to stay in place. "What's up, kid?"

"I had another bad dream last night."

The smile disappeared. "I know. They're just dreams, Rach. Remember I told you that?"

The blonde nodded dejectedly as she crossed to her uncle's side. Eyes traveling around the kitchen, her small face soon puckered in confusion. "Uncle Garrett, did I sleep late?"

"No, sweetie, not really."

"Then why are we having dinner at breakfast time?"

Garrett scoffed incredulously, talking to no one in particular. "Is there a law I'm not aware of? A constitutional ban on having Italian before noon?"

"No, that'd be stupid," the girl replied innocently.

"Rachel, when you went to that special school, did they teach you about rhetorical questions?"

"Yeah," Rachel answered with a laugh. "Like the one you're asking."

"You're messing with me," Garrett declared in mock hurt.

"Nuh uh."

"Nuh uh," Garrett mimicked, picking her up. Moving away from the stove, he bounced her in his arms a few times, tickling her stomach to make her laugh, then groaning dramatically as he set her back on the ground. "You want to know what I think, Rach?"

"No."

"No? No, my opinion doesn't matter?"

"Nuh uh."

Garrett locked eyes with Elektra. "She's taking a page out of your book, isn't that fun." To Rachel, "I think you're getting too big for that game."

"Am not."

"You don't think so? Well I think you're biased."

"What's that mean?"

"They didn't teach you that word in the twenty-thousand-a-year elementary school? Look it up then, I'll buy you a dictionary to go with the pony.

"Are you gonna be done with the food soon?" Rachel questioned.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Can we play dollhouse?"

"No," he replied promptly.

"Please?"

"No, Rachel."

"But we played it yesterday."

"Kiddo, did Daddy ever tell you that story about pushing me out of the tree in our backyard?"

The blonde giggled slightly. "Yeah, he said it was funny."

"Yeah," the hitman mutter darkly. "Concussions are a real laugh fest. Rach, playing dollhouse was more painful than falling headfirst out of that very, very tall tree. Why don't you ask…?" His gaze landed on Elektra for the barest of seconds, then he thought better of finishing that sentence. "Why don't you wait for Matt and Abby to come back in?"

"Abby's sick, sick people should stay in bed 'til they're better," the girl replied with absolute certainty.

"Well ask Matt then. I'm sure he doesn't mind playing with dolls."

"I did, he said hi on his way past my room. He told me to ask you."

Garrett sighed in exasperation. "Of course he did."

"If you were a good uncle, you'd play with me."

"Did Matt tell you to say that, too?"

"No, Abby did."

Garrett's mouth dropped open. Sighing again, he gave Rachel a gentle shove towards the living room. "I call the pink Corvette."

Happy for now, the girl went back upstairs to get her toys. Scowling, Garrett moved to stand in front of Elektra, who was still leaning against the counter. "We're not letting them see each other anymore, you know that right?"

Elektra smirked in amusement.

The false anger disappeared, replaced by his own smile of amusement. "You don't realize it, do you? How different you are when he's around?"

The amusement faded. He was doing it again, that thing he sometimes did when they were together. Looking at her as though he was looking _through _her, as though he could see everything about her. Like Matt.

"You actually smile. Me and some of the guys at The Compound, we used to argue whether or not that was actually possible or if you always looked like you had a stick up your ass." He paused, smirking mischievously. "And when I say stick, I'm talking a real stick, not Stick stick, although there were always questions about you two-"

"Don't you have dolls to undress?"

"Sadly yes," Garrett admitted reluctantly. Then he was serious again. "He's good for you, Mr. Elektra."

"Yeah," Elektra agreed after searching his face for a moment. "I know that."

Garrett nodded, a hint of sadness creeping into his demeanor. Then it was gone, so fleeting that Elektra couldn't know if it had been there at all. Mouth curving in another half-smirk, the hitman glanced at his niece coming back down the stairs, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. "S.H.I.E.L.D. I used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Technically speaking, I was a spy."

"So you've said," Elektra deadpanned, coming to the startling realization that she might be starting to like him. Or at least do more than tolerate his existence. It was easier when she had Matt, when she wasn't missing him and using Garrett as a substitute. And she couldn't very well hate a man who stayed up all night with a seven-year-old after a nightmare.

"I mean really, I used to be a spy. And now I'm playing dolls. Not even action figures, just dolls."

"Are you asking for sympathy?"

"From you? Never in my life. Just…just verbalizing the pain." He started to leave, pausing to look at her over his shoulder. "Elektra…"

"Garrett…" She prodded, unsure what to make of his uncharacteristic shyness.

"Nothing," he replied after the briefest of hesitation. "Nothing at all."

* * *

She had no idea what Matt said to the teen, but when they returned, Abby was in marginally higher spirits, engaging him in a half-hearted debate of musical lyrics. ("It's a stalker song. Every move you make I'll be watching you? It's not romantic; it's a creepy, disturbing, stalker song.")

The day passed much the same as the last three, without any hint of progress. Matt wondered about Foggy, unsure if he was still in custody but there was no way to find out. The papers said nothing of it, and Matt refused to contact Ben Urich, the only one he'd even think to trust with this. Elektra realized how much of her paranoia he'd picked up when he talked of bugged phone lines. Granted he was probably right about that, but hearing it from him somehow sounded wrong. She also didn't like the fact that they were sitting idle mere hours from New York, but there was no help for it. She and Matt were essentially penniless, and the only places she had any claim to belonged to her father. Fisk would know that, he'd watch and wait at her family homes, just in case she was foolish enough to go to one of them, and Garrett was linked to her now, making him a target as well. For now at least, they were stuck.

* * *

"I don't like cough medicine," Abby declared yet again.

"And I don't like you coughing up a lung," Elektra retorted.

"I don't need it."

"You _wouldn't_ need it if you learned how to rest for more than ten minutes."

"Your bedside manner sucks," Abby replied, fighting off a yawn. "Besides, one of us has a cold, one of us got shot. Logically, who would you think needs more rest?"

"Take the medicine, go to bed."

"_Rachel's _not even sleeping yet."

Everyone was gathered in the living room, observing the back-and-forth between mentor and protégé with varying degrees of interest. Matt, who'd stayed neutral up to this point, finally spoke up. "Abby, just do what she says. The fever's going up again."

"Why are you taking her side?"

""She sleeps with knives," Garrett interjected mildly. "Why _wouldn't _he take her side?"

"And just so you know," Matt chuckled, "the seven-year-old who's not sleeping yet could probably come up with better arguments than you're using right now."

"You suck," Abby replied tonelessly.

"And he's clearly wrong, about the argument thing." Garrett added, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut up, Garrett," Elektra demanded, patience running thin.

"Still not an evening person either."

And so it went until finally the teen gave in, calling it an early night. Unfortunately, Matt decided to side with Abby, albeit after she was asleep. And that was how Elektra found herself dozing lightly in their room, Matt insisting that nearly bleeding to death meant that she had a higher sleep requirement. When she pointed out that no one there had slept well in the last few days, Garrett decided to join in and she found herself being ambushed once again by the two of them.

She really needed to separate them before things got out of hand.

Once the bed was in sight though, she reluctantly agreed they may, just may, have been right. And though it was only 8:00, Elektra gave in as well, knowing that she'd only manage a few hours sleep anyway. Matt offered to join her, but she refused outright, leaving him to watch Flinstone reruns with Rachel and Garrett. Elektra was just about ready to depart the land of wakefulness when it happened again. The familiar sense of slipping into Kimagure, even though she hadn't been trying to do so.

_Parking lot. Motel. Bullets. Abby dead_.

Goddammit.

* * *

Rachel was gone from the living room by the time she charged through it. She glimpsed twin looks of fearful concern on Matt and Garrett's faces as she grabbed for the back doorknob, breathing hard and fast as she fumbled with it.

"E, wait a second."

She ignored the hitman, ignored the fact that he and Matt were closing in on her. She wondered if that panic attack Abby joked about this morning was actually happening. "I need to get out of this house," she mumbled tightly, door slamming behind her.

Elektra knew she shouldn't be reacting like this, knew it even as she stormed blindly through the woods bordering the cabin. She'd convinced herself it was nothing, a fluke, a mistake, something. Her shoulder wasn't damaged in the vision; it was her ankle the bullet slammed into. Her ankle gave out and Abby tried to save her and it all went even further to hell. But if her shoulder wasn't damaged, if they were here and not in some seedy motel, then it couldn't possibly be true.

And yet here she was, seeing it again.

Everything else she'd ever seen had come true, why not this?

Goddammit it was all too much.

Despite her emotional turmoil, Elektra sensed him before she saw him, forcing herself to look up and meet his eyes as he came towards her. How he'd wound up in front of her without her realizing was something she didn't care to figure out. She was breathing hard, shaking, on the verge of crying. Dammit, she hadn't cried since she'd found him in Stick's cabin, seemingly back from the dead.

"Found you," he whispered softly, moving close but not touching.

"Don't," she warned, hating the catch in her voice. "Just don't say anything."

He nodded once, closing the last bit of distance between them. Then he kissed her. Slowly, gently, breaking multiple times to allow for her ragged breathing. But he always came back, lips pressing comfortably against her own until Elektra felt herself relax, responding in kind as the tension gradually left her body. Her arms were around his neck when she saw it, the familiar look in his sightless eyes. No. No, no, no, he wasn't going to see her like this. Pushing away from him, she stepped back a few paces, turning her back just as the first raindrops hit.

"Elektra."

Soft, imploring, like at her father's funeral. She'd cheated him then, too, knowing how rare this was and still taking it away from him. But she was crying silently now, her expression one of complete anguish and she refused to let him see that.

"Elektra, don't do this. Talk to me"

Not an unreasonable request. Honestly she should've told him weeks ago when it first happened. She made him promise no more secrets after he came back. Hypocrisy at its finest. "Abby's dead."

Confused silence, except for the cold rain beating down on them. "What?"

Dammit she hadn't said it right, even though it wasn't technically wrong. The visions always came true, so technically speaking Abby was already dead. "She dies. In front of me. That's what I saw that I couldn't tell you about." She cringed remembering the hurt on his face when she came out of Abby's room and ignored his pleas for an explanation.

Silence. Again. Crossing her arms for warmth, Elektra started to walk away, like she had before. No limo, no bodyguards, but still the same.

"_Elektra. Elektra wait. Please."_

It occurred to her, not for the first time, to wonder what would've happened if she hadn't gotten in that car, hadn't ordered the driver to leave, hadn't left him standing in that cemetery. Would it have made a difference? Would she have spent the last seven years with him, built a life with him that much sooner? Would she have married him? Probably. The thing was that she couldn't even picture that life, couldn't imagine seven years without blood and death and tragedy. Was that a tragedy in and of itself? Probably. But Abby would've died if she hadn't been there. But Abby was going to die now, so did a few extra years really count for anything?

To hell with it. Seven years ago was seven years ago and she couldn't do a thing about that now. But that didn't mean she had to repeat the same mistake. Turning around, she let him see the tears, the grief, the anguish over something that hadn't happened yet.

* * *

Garrett was nowhere to be found when they got back. She knew he was in the house, but the main floor was empty. At least she had something to be thankful for. Their room had a fireplace, smaller than the one downstairs, but still useful. Sporting dry sweats and a tank top, Elektra lay on a blanket by that fireplace, watching Matt. The blind man sat perched on the edge of the bed, almost-staring at his hands.

"I'm sorry," Elektra whispered softly. "I couldn't face it. I couldn't face it and I was trying to…" She trailed off, knowing how childish she sounded. No more secrets, she'd made him promise. Hypocrisy at its best. The lights were out, and she watched the firelight play against his scarred visage. "Matt?"

He was stone-faced; she couldn't read him at all. And that always scared her because the only time she'd not been able to read him was when he came back to her, so angry and broken and hopeless. She thought for a second that he was mad, more than she'd anticipated. And that scared her because she already felt like she was suffocating and she really, really, couldn't handle him mad at her right now. Then he stood up, bare feet moving silently over hardwood floor. Slowly, he eased himself down next to her, grabbing a nearby pillow. "Come here," he mumbled, already pulling her close. "You're shaking," he added worriedly.

She was, but didn't care. Resting her head lightly on his t-shirt-clad chest, Elektra let his body heat warm her up, sighing when his fingers brushed through damp locks. Her hair was going to be a mess tomorrow, but for once she didn't care about that either. She expected him to question her, bring up all the things she'd considered herself about the vision, about why it didn't make sense. He didn't, and she was incredibly grateful.

"We're gonna get through this," he stated, slipping his hand under her top to rub circles on her back.

She couldn't believe that, not with the vision, or Bullseye, or Fisk and the police. It was an impossibility. And yet she wanted to believe it, and he sounded so damn certain. "How can you be sure?"

"How can I not be, we're still here."

She sighed again, considering. "I'm just tired, Matt. I am just so unbelievably tired." He'd called her on that during the hallucination, but she'd never planned on admitting it for real.

"I know," he acknowledged, holding her tighter.

She'd managed not to barge into Abby's room so far, listening to him when he said again and again that Abby was fine. Her restlessness was irrational and she knew that and all she really wanted was to stay here with him and let him convince her that things would work out "Sorry," she whispered, extricating herself from the embrace.

"She's sleeping."

"I know. Sorry," she repeated.

"I'm here when you get back," he promised, offering a crooked half-smile.

On her feet, Elektra remained still, looking at him silently for so long that he frowned in concern. "What's wrong?"

Shaking her head in a gesture he couldn't see, Elektra leaned down and covered his mouth with her own. "What was that for?" he asked, expecting a quick goodbye peck instead of the slow, drawn-out kiss he received.

"Love you," she replied softly.

Matt's eyes widened. The number of times she'd said that to him could be counted on one hand, and the words always caught him off-guard. "Love you, too," he whispered, just as she disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Garrett ran into her on her way out of Abby's room. "Hey," he greeted awkwardly.

"Hey," she mimicked, and for once she didn't seem annoyed by his presence.

"So umm, I know you'll probably kick my ass for asking, but how are you?"

She glanced past him, looking at the closed door to her room."I'm okay," she answered.

He didn't press. Murdock had clearly handled the worst of…whatever was going on with her. A quiet whimper came through the next wall, reminding him why he was up. "I should…"

"Yeah."

Sighing, he let her pass him, then spent the next hour lying to Rachel, promising that nothing would ever hurt her again, that he'd always be there. Ten minutes after that, he locked himself in the bathroom, downed a handful of pills, and slipped off his shirt. His torso was covered in harsh bruises, more so even than Matt, despite the fact that the lawyer had taken far more of a beating over the past days. Wincing, he lowered himself to the side of the tub, grabbing a hand towel just before the blood started pouring from his nostrils. Trying to ignore the dizziness, he pinched hard against his nose, reaching up to grab another bottle of pills from the sink.

"Sunuvabitch," he muttered.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Sorry guys, I didn't mean for that hiatus I warned you about to be so long. In apology, I give you what is by far the longest chapter of anything I've ever written. Again, I apologize for dropping off the face of the earth, but please read, review and enjoy this monstrously (for me anyway) long chapter.

* * *

"Nice grouping," Matt praised, the compliment tasting strange on his lips for so many reasons.

Lowering the pistol, Abby glanced at him before focusing back on the tree she'd been littering with metal. A faded red target stood out against the bark. Several more like this were spread out across the property. Garrett, it seemed, had no compunctions about using these woods as a shooting range.

"Thanks," Abby replied. The bullets were embedded near the middle of the target in a tight, triangular pattern, just as Garrett taught her.

And to think, all the other kids were learning Spanish.

The morning was dreary and overcast, ground still damp from the storms raging on and off since their arrival. Abby waited him out, not in the mood for conversation. She'd been distant and somewhat rude over the last few days though, so she couldn't quite manage to bail on him again. Reloading the silenced weapon, she returned to her earlier task, still watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Elektra told me what you said in that motel room."

"Which, the one pre-you-breaking-out-of-jail-and-Elektra-getting-shot or post?"

"Post."

Firing off another round, Abby flashed briefly to the crappy room across from the crappy diner, to Garrett preceding her through the doorway. To Elektra's blood painting the carpet a new shade. "She told you about that huh?"

Matt nodded wordlessly.

Groaning inwardly, Abby let her arms drop to her sides. She'd been expecting this, yet somehow hoped that with all the revelations of the past few days, her little outburst might've gone forgotten. Surprise, surprise, luck wasn't on her side.

"You saw what happened with Elektra?"

"That's what I told her before it all went to hell, yeah."

"And your dad."

The teen mumbled affirmatively. "And you. This whole time without boundaries thing is totally overrated."

Thinking of what Elektra told him last night, Matt had to agree. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"Not your fault. You going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

"The sixty-four billion dollar question you've been trying to ask since we got here."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Obviously it is," Abby replied lightly. Deciding to save them both some time, she chose not to wait for the lawyer. "The stuff I saw about you, none of it was…I didn't see any of what you did for them."

"I know, she told me that already."

"Well I didn't tell her. What they did to you." She watched him relax, relief lightening his handsome features. Raising the gun again, Abby hardened her voice just slightly, sending another bullet flying. "You should tell her."

The blind man hummed noncommittally.

"You should," the teen insisted. "She knew what they did, it'd make a lot more sense to her."

"What would?"

"Why you were such a jerk when you came back," Abby responded. There was no anger in her tone. It was a statement of fact and she knew he wouldn't take offense to it.

He didn't. Matt had long since come to grips with the fact that he'd literally lost his mind after The Hand succeeded in breaking him. He'd behaved like a selfish idiot, but you could only indulge in so much self-punishment before losing it completely. Or until someone, in his case Abby Miller, snapped you back to a reality that was harsh and painful while somehow being warm and welcoming at the same time.

"Tell her," Abby repeated, eyes locking on a scar just above his right eye.

Matt said nothing.

"She can handle it, you shouldn't underestimate her."

The lawyer smirked again. He'd learned not to underestimate Elektra Natchios right around the time she elbowed him in the stomach, sending him sprawling into a playground bench. "I don't, I never have."

Not when he was reasonably sane at least.

Abby studied his face, recognizing the honesty there. Then she got it. "You shouldn't underestimate yourself either."

"Working on it," he chuckled.

Abby nodded, holding the gun steady but not firing. "I hate him," she declared suddenly.

Matt crossed his arms. There was a hint of defiance in her voice, daring him to reprimand her for her feelings. That, he knew, would never happen.

"He stabbed her. Stupid son of a bitch stabbed her. And Dad…"

He let the swearing go, thinking Elektra would do the same in this case.

"And he keeps coming back," the teen continued, firing off three quick shots. "What is that?" Even Garrett's deceased brother, whom he claimed so much to despise, had a kid. He loved his daughter, clearly there was humanity there. As far as Abby was concerned, Bullseye had no humanity whatsoever.

Matt stood patiently, letting her vent the rage that'd been building for nearly a week.

"How do good people, or just halfway decent people end up dead while he keeps showing up?" She fired again, this one landing directly in the middle of the makeshift target. Bull's eye.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'd say life's not fair, but you already know that."

"Life sucks," Abby replied flatly.

"It has its moments," Matt countered, cringing inwardly because Abby was way too young to be this jaded.

"Guess so," the teen acknowledged. Then her voice became deadly serious. "I want in on it."

"What?" Matt questioned, already knowing the answer he would get.

"Last time I screwed up, passed out before I could get at him."

"Cardiac arrest from poison is not the same as passing out."

She ignored that. "He hurt me. A lot. I want him dead."

"He hurt all of us. A lot," Matt corrected gently.

"And you and Elektra are going to get him back for that. I want my turn."

They'd had a version of this conversation two years ago, right after he'd first met the grieving teenager. She'd wanted blood then, too. He didn't blame her two years ago, he didn't blame her now, but Abby didn't understand two years ago either. She was stronger now, in more ways than one, but she still didn't understand. There was only one way she'd ever really get it, and Matt prayed to a God he wasn't sure existed that she wouldn't have to figure it out like that.

"What?" Abby questioned, seeing his faraway look in her direction.

He thought carefully before answering, opting end to shelve those concerns for the time being. Shaking his head, Matt offered a tight, awkward smile.

Rolling her eyes, Abby turned her back on him, walking slowly towards the cabin. "You should tell Elektra."

"Working on it," Matt repeated dryly, matching her easy strides.

"Fine, dropping it, but can you at least tell her not to do that hovering-over-my-bed-at-two-in-the-morning-thing? It's getting kind of weird now that she's doing it all the time."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Abby didn't know the cause of Elektra's sudden urge to see her last night, but he sure as hell did. In truth, this early morning chat was more about that then making sure E didn't know about his torture sessions. He could hear her heartbeat, monitor her breathing from miles off, but it wasn't enough. He needed to know she was okay, just as Elektra did. He loved her. Not the way Elektra did, those two had something entirely beyond his comprehension, and not like a daughter because he knew how Abby would respond to that. But he did love her, despite the fact that his role in her life, their entire relationship, had never really been defined. He loved her and what Elektra said last night scared him, scared him more than he'd even realized until now.

"You're not listening are you?"

"I'll talk to her about it," Matt lied. If E wanted to sneak a few more bedside visits in, he wasn't going to stop her.

"Good," Abby replied, knowing full-well he was being less than honest. "She listens to you."

Matt's eyebrows climbed to his hairline. "Since when?"

Abby shrugged. "Sometimes she does. Once in awhile."

"That's news to me."

Abby smirked in response, walking faster to combat the chill morning air.

* * *

She was pale with a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin when he entered the kitchen. Seeing the set of free weights on the table in front of her, Garrett shook his head in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

Elektra paid him no attention, gripping the edge of the table as she waited for her shoulder to stop screaming. She should've done this upstairs where there was less chance of being disturbed, but gut instinct had her paranoia tendencies going full-force today. In here, she could watch the front and back doors simultaneously, less chance of surprise attacks. Of course Kimagure would accomplish the same goal, but the concentration required for that simply wasn't in the cards right now.

Striding up to her, Garrett lifted one of the weights she'd been using, cursing loudly as he set it back down. "What the fuck are you trying to do?"

"Physio," Elektra replied, thoroughly unconcerned by the anger rolling off him.

"Physio," he echoed bitingly. "That arm should be in a sling. _Would _be if you weren't so unbelievably-"

"I need to use it." He knew as well as she did that they weren't out of danger, and there was no way she'd be caught fighting with one useless arm.

He made to check the shoulder, halting when she threw him a smoldering glare. Shaking his head again, Garrett yanked one of the drawers open, snatching up a small orange bottle. Shoving the drawer closed, he crossed back to the table and slammed the pills down in front of her, mouthing something suspiciously close to 'Fucking idiot' as he retreated to the counter.

"I need my range of motion back," Elektra stated, wondering why she bothered justifying herself to him. The bottle and the relief it offered looked far too tempting from this angle.

He laughed derisively, busying himself with coffee grounds. "The shoulder's trashed, E."

"Not permanently," she growled.

He looked at her over his shoulder, some of the tension evaporating. "No, not permanently. But _currently_, it's garbage."

There was no contradicting him there. The bullet, the surgery to get rid of it, the fight at Jimmy Pierce's home... "Have to start sooner or later."

"Except that option one is going to turn the arm from trashed to trashed, crushed, and compacted. Give it a little heal time before you resume the female action hero routine."

It was her turn to laugh derisively. "What I need right now is coffee." She'd slept better last night with Matt holding her, with the knowledge that he understood everything. Understood as much as she did at least. She'd slept better, but not well, and she still needed some kind of fix.

"Nectar of the gods," Garrett agreed, a weary smile tugging at his lips. "Next to beer anyway."

Elektra didn't respond, choosing instead to study him while his back was turned. He hadn't shaved, but had at least taken the time to comb his hair out this morning. The semi-casual shirt and jeans he wore were a definite improvement over the sweats and too-big t-shirts he'd opted for over the past few days.

Pouring two cups, Garrett turned to face her, well aware that she had been and still was looking him over. He almost made a joke about her checking him out, rejecting the idea when he remembered what he had to do. Seeing her eye the coffee with a predatory gaze, he leaned against the counter, making no move to hand her the beverage.

Recognizing an oncoming standoff, Elektra leaned back in her own chair, favoring him with a fierce scowl. "I'm not taking the meds."

He shrugged indifferently, masking his irritation well. "Whatever you want, Did I mention that you don't look quite so jaded and bitter today?"

She frowned, realizing after a moment's thought that what she'd heard was Garrett's version of a compliment. "What do you want?"

Straight to the point then. "I need you to watch Rachel again."

"Where are you going?"

"Checking out some leads."

Elektra's frown deepened. "Leads from where?"

Garrett rolled his eyes. "You know that magic eight ball thing I bought for Rachel? Very handy informational tool."

She glared. It was too early in the morning for this and he was still blocking her view of the coffeemaker.

Sobering, the hitman considered his options. There was a fifty-fifty chance she'd see through him. Mr. Elektra wasn't there to serve as living polygraph test, but Garrett didn't know if he was close enough to notice the lie anyway. He decided to risk it, mixing truths with half-truths with outright bullshit. "There's a guy not too far from here, used to pal around with Jimmy."

"Garrett-"

"I need to know what my brother was doing."

"And you think he can give you that?" Elektra replied skeptically.

"Worth a shot. Better than sitting on my ass trying to guess what was going through what passed for his brain."

Biting her lip, Elektra remembered what happened the last time Garrett met a contact. He was tired and angry and probably a drug addict. They didn't need him running off and screwing up and leaving them with his emotionally distraught niece. "What about Rachel?"

Eyebrows raised, he put the cups down, tilting his head sideways.

"She needs you here," Elektra persisted.

"More parenting advice?"

The brunette scowled. He wasn't that stupid (despite her occasional assertions to the contrary), he knew how clingy she was, how anxious the child became if he left her sight for longer than a few minutes.

To himself, Garrett agreed, knew exactly what Elektra was getting at. He also knew she hadn't forgotten Marty, or the cops swarming the apartment after their meeting with him. Frankly, the hitman was surprised she hadn't brought it up already. "She was fine with you guys the first day, she'll be fine now."

Elektra shook her head. Either he didn't get it, a definite possibility when paired with his lack of experience in this area, or he did get it and was actively disregarding the effect his leaving would have.

"She barely slept last night. Ten to one odds she spends most of the day in dreamland and I'm back before she knows I left."

Elektra scoffed ruefully at the idea that Rachel would manage to sleep away the hours without incident.

He'd considered leaving hours ago, without telling any of them. E might not like playing nanny, but she'd do it if there wasn't another choice on the table. He'd dismissed that idea fairly quickly though. One, she had a temper like no other, something he didn't want to face when he came back. Two, she had an unbridled fixation with sharp objects. And three, her favorite line with him involved sneaking into his room at night and removing his favorite appendage.

He began to think now that it might've been better if he took off earlier and slept with an extra gun under his pillow tonight. "Please," he said simply, letting his body sag.

Whether it was real, a manipulation, or some combination of both, Elektra found herself cracking in the face of his plea. God, she really had gone soft. But she sympathized with him now, on far too many levels. Hs brother was murdered, leaving him with a girl he barely knew. She thought of Abby, of history's sick way of repeating itself.

Still, he'd screwed up with Marty. Maybe. She hadn't mentioned it again out of simple courtesy. He'd told her before that she was distracted, that she'd either get it together soon or get herself in trouble.

Then she got shot.

He hadn't rubbed her nose in it, but he had saved her life, gotten them out of the hospital before too many questions came up. "Where are you going?"

"Cambridge."

"You're driving to Boston?" He'd be gone most of the day, depending on how long this meeting took. Two hours to get food and supplies was one thing but-

"Hey, I'm thinking of Rachel. Harvard and MIT are right there and the kid's going to need a hell of an education."

"You shouldn't go alone," Elektra declared, less concerned for his safety than for what would happen to the rest of them if he didn't return.

"My brother, my business," he replied, easily. "You know I'd tell you if there was anything about Bullseye."

"I want you to show me that page."

"What?"

"The file. S.H.I.E.L.D. What they have on him."

"I can't."

"You can't."

"They have my old computer. They'll find out what I was accessing, probably already have. Codes will be changed; they'll take time to break."

"But you can do it."

"There was nothing there, E. Nothing you didn't already know."

Green eyes narrowed. "Do it anyway."

"Fine, but I'm going alone. I break the rules, I never see him again."

Elektra fumed. She didn't want to put herself or Matt on the line, and someone had to be here to watch the kids. She had absolutely no desire to do that, but-

"Besides, the trashed shoulder makes you a liability and I don't need to be watching your back the whole time.

A light whoosh of air passed right next to Garrett's left ear. Pausing in the act of retrieving the cups, Garrett examined cabinet inches away from his head. Slowly, he turned around. Elektra was grimacing, her injured arm stiff on the table. Then he examined the sai embedded in his cabinet. Studying her again, he noted that Elektra's clothes were fairly tight-fitting, leaving little room for concealment. Where the hell had she pulled the sword from?

On second thought, he decided he really didn't want to know.

Arm throbbing, eyes flashing, Elektra pinned Garrett under a cool stare. Yes, she wasn't totally recovered yet. Yes, he'd gotten her out of the hospital and provided them a place to regroup. And yes, he'd covered her during the fight at Rachel's old house, saving her from several lethal attacks by Fisk's cronies.

But that didn't mean she had to put up with his obnoxiously big mouth.

Coffee cup in each hand, Garrett stayed where he was, smirking mischievously. "Three things. One, you should switch to decaf. Two, next time you do that, can you aim a little to the right? I've been thinking of getting a little stud in that ear."

"You said three things," Elektra replied dryly.

"And three," he paused, adding a wink for effect. "Would it bother you to know I was slightly turned on right now?"

Matt and Abby came through the back door just in time to see another sai fly towards Garrett's head. This one actually brushed his ear, though it didn't come close to piercing it. Considering she'd made the throw with her bad arm, Garrett couldn't be sure the miss was intentional this time.

Taking in Elektra's glare, the other knife trapped in the cabinet door, the cups in Garrett's hands, and the tiny stream of blood running down his outer ear, Abby shook her head. "You pissed her off before she had her coffee."

The hitman managed a slow nod.

"You can't piss her off before coffee," Abby declared solemnly.

"Noted," Garrett muttered. Setting the cups down again, Garrett walked towards the living room, enduring a hard look from Murdock, the lawyer placing a possessive hand on Elektra's back.

"Garrett," Elektra called out.

"What?" he asked, not bothering to stop or turn around.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Clicking his tongue, Garrett continued his trek to the stairs. "Come on, E. I haven't done anything stupid since…when did you show up at the apartment?"

"Last Wednesday," Abby supplied, openly amused by the situation.

"Thank you. Come on, E, I haven't done anything stupid since last Wednesday."

Matt's expression softened once Garrett reached the second floor, but only for a moment. Lifting one of the weights, he was appalled by how heavy it was. Intending to chastise E for doing too much too fast, he bit his tongue at hearing Abby clear her throat. Feeling her eyes burning into him, Matt quickly got the message.

Crossing the large kitchen, he grabbed the cup of black coffee off the counter. Wordlessly, he placed it in front of Elektra, opting to wait until she finished drinking before speaking again.

Abby gave him thumbs up while Elektra was preoccupied with the hot liquid. No need to take unnecessary risks.

"I saw that."

Abby's stomach dropped. Apparently the older woman wasn't _that _preoccupied with her morning beverage.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap..

"I'm going to check on Rachel," the teen stated, trying to decide how she could leave the kitchen without passing Elektra.

"She's sleeping; you're not going up there."

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

A duffel loaded with guns flew from the upper floor, landing softly on the bigger of the two couches. Watching the scene downstairs, Garrett leaned over the railing, two fingers pressed to his bleeding ear. "Murdock, you're a lucky, lucky man." Voice oozing feigned seriousness, he ducked into Rachel's room before E could throw anything at him.

* * *

Maya Lopez pulled herself up on the bar, executing a backflip that would've made any gymnast proud. Appropriate, considering she'd learned the move from an Olympic-level gymnast thirty minutes earlier.

The rest of her routine was predictably flawless, though she'd only watched the DVD once. It was almost a fair trade, she supposed. Her hearing in exchange for an unbelievably perfect muscle memory. Heading for the bathroom and a much-needed shower, Maya froze when the cell phone vibrated against her sweatpants-covered thigh. She couldn't actually talk on the thing, but texting had uses beyond being a distraction for high school kids. Flipping the phone open, Maya scanned the brief message, continuing her quest to the bathroom at double-speed.. He needed her for something, finally. Sitting here waiting for further instructions had become utterly maddening.

Maya was out the door less than ten minutes later, climbing into the limo that would take her to Fisk's building.

* * *

Speeding down the highway, Garrett saw everything around him without really seeing it. If a cop were to engage him in a high speed chase at that moment, he would've been able to outrun and/or shoot their car to pieces, even though he was paying very little attention.

Jimmy. Stupid, asshole Jimmy. The big brother who'd once sworn to protect him was gone. Just like Lena, the stupid, bitchy idiot Jimmy took such a liking to eight years ago. Six-and-a-half years ago, Jimmy had phoned him, panicked for the first time Garrett remembered, rambling on about Lena ditching him. Rachel's cries were clearly audible in the background. Jimmy begged him to fly out, pleaded for assistance.

Garrett, holding court at a high-roller blackjack table in Vegas, mumbled an excuse about work and promptly hung up on him.

Fine, he'd been an idiot that day, he could accept that.

What he couldn't figure out was how Rachel got so damn smart with Jimmy and Lena's genes, never mind some of his own.

Then there was Elektra Natchios. Damn if he could ever figure her out, never mind his feelings for her. He didn't love her, that was certain, but she wasn't Janelle and she wasn't Vanessa and she sure as hell wasn't Chastity.

Granted she was beautiful, but beautiful women weren't hard to find, and one had to consider all her traits, not just her attractiveness. Elektra Natchios was hard-headed, arrogant beyond description, not to mention having the worst phone etiquette of anyone he'd ever met. This included Rachel who, at the age of three, returned his friendly greeting by cheerfulluy telling him to piss off. To be fair, she'd learned the phrase from him, but still…

Jimmy sent his daughter to her room after the incident. The next time Garrett visited, his brother broke his nose and blackened his eye.

Elektra meanwhile was self-righteous and angry and generally fucked up on so many levels. And darkly, mysteriously captivating on so many others.

His 'relationship' with her had been built on rules, all of which were hers, all of which were silent, implied, but meant to be followed no matter what the circumstances. He'd learned this the hard way on their very first night together. It was years before he discovered that, that very first night was also the anniversary of her murder. He'd been stripping her of her clothing, moaning as her nails clawed into his back. Then he'd said something. It was such a long time ago, what had he said to her?

"_God, you are so beautiful."_

Something about that declaration, that small cluster of words had set her off. She'd gone stiff and angry and he'd had no idea why, not knowing that Matt Murdock had said much the same thing to her on a rainy New York rooftop shortly before her first life ended.

He'd learned that night not to say anything, save a few passion-filled curses he couldn't quite hold on to. The fact that she was using him for sex didn't matter, actually made things infinitely simpler.

Then he had to go and be a moron and start to care.

Why or how that happened, Garrett wasn't sure. He only knew that he hadn't lied to her the other day. He cared and he shouldn't and he was an idiot. He hadn't lied about McCabe caring either. The agent had harbored his own feelings towards Elektra, and Garrett could only assume she was too emotionally dense to figure that out.

And then there was Murdock.

Mr. Elektra.

Garrett honestly couldn't decide if he envied or pitied the man. He did harbor a certain level of respect for the lawyer, impressed by the fact that Elektra hadn't totally emasculated him.

Matt Murdock.

Christ. She'd mentioned Denver in the kitchen yesterday, shown surprise that he hadn't lied to her during what ended up being their final conversation. Until last Wednesday at least. He hadn't everything about that last call.

"_What?"_

_He'd rigged the phone so that McCabe's number would show up, otherwise she never would've answered "Wow, aren't we chipper today?"_

_There was a pause. They hadn't spoken since the third anniversary, when he'd admitted to doing a background check on her. That most definitely qualified as breaking the rules. "What do you want?"_

_She hadn't hung up on him immediately. Maybe she really _was _chipper. "You called McCabe."_

"_Yeah, thanks."_

_Her shows of gratitude were so overwhelmingly sincere. "I heard about the Maleev job."_

"_So did a lot of people."_

"_Six extra deaths."_

"_Not your concern."_

"_No, but that much collateral damage should be concerning to you."_

"_It's not."_

"_You're making it personal. Don't ever make it personal."_

"_You don't know what you're talking about."_

"_It's a job, E. Take care of the name on the file and get out. Don't up the corpse count just because you're having a bad day. Year, whatever."_

_There'd been a loud shriek of happy laughter, followed by cheers that could never come from an adult or an angst-ridden teenager. "Where are you?" _

"_Birthday party, waiting for the cake." _

_Another pause. "You're kidding."_

"_That would be extremely nice if it were true. I think the runt with the lint allergy just smashed the piñata. Good God, kid, it's only a Twix bar!"_

"_You're at a kid's birthday party."_

"_In Denver, yes. My job is to make sure the clown doesn't molest anyone."_

"_How nice for you."_

"_Isn't it though? Seriously, we have to talk."_

"_We don't have anything to talk about."_

"_You know Samuel Silke? Crime boss that took over after Kingp-"_

"_I know who he is."_

"_Thought so. Sammy Boy hired me last week."_

"_Am I supposed to care about this?"_

"_Possibly. I can't do the job, you feel like earning some extra money?"_

"_You're turning down work?"_

"_You want the cash or not?"_

_No answer, not right away. "I'll pass."_

"_You. Pass."_

"_Ask McCabe to give it to someone else."_

"_This one doesn't go through him, I spent his commission money on a Lamborghini."_

"_I've got my own jobs to do."_

"_And the fact that the offer came from me…?"_

"_You give yourself too much credit."_

"_So this isn't personal then?"_

She'd hung up on him. When he'd called again, he was sent directly to her automated voicemail. Later, after Rachel came off her sugar high and fell asleep in his arms, Garrett went back to his hotel, examining the sheaf of papers from New York.

Don't start to care, don't make it personal.

Well that certainly worked out well.

He should've told her right away instead of baiting her, dancing around the subject. He'd been an idiot that day and still had no good explanation for his actions. Or lack thereof.

He should've done the job for Silke. Killed the pesky Hell's Kitchen attorney who, in a joint effort with the D.A. was causing so much trouble.

He should've killed Murdock, ignoring his connection to Elektra. He'd found a picture of them on the Net, snapped minutes before Nikolas Natchios was murdered. The woman in the silver dress with the megawatt smile was not the woman he knew.

He should've killed Murdock.

He should've told E that her boyfriend was being targeted.

The more he thought about it, the more Garrett realized there were a lot of things he should and shouldn't have done.

* * *

"We shouldn't let them get attached."

"No, we really shouldn't."

Elektra sighed as Matt's arms encircled her waist. She leaned automatically into his chest, watching from the porch as Abby schooled Rachel on the finer points of skipping stones across the water. "I mean it, Matt."

"So do I," he said quietly, rubbing his cheek against hers.

"Maybe it's not Abby I should be worried about."

"Meaning?" Releasing her from the backwards hug, Matt pressed deft fingers into her back, easing the knots of tension there.

Damn him for distracting her. Damn her for letting him. She wanted to remind him of the kitchen, shortly after Garrett left. Of Rachel trying to sneak a cookie. Matt had caught her in the act, prompting a discussion in which Rachel attempted to lie about it, only to face a gentle reprimand from the lawyer. Rachel, utterly confused as to how he'd busted her, proceeded to accuse Matt of faking his blindness, laughing as she did so. Listening to Matt try convincing a stubborn second-grader that he couldn't actually see was something Elektra never quite expected. Nor did she expect the litany of goofy faces Rachel made, hoping to get a reaction from the blind man.

"You're just mad she pulled one over on you," Matt declared.

Elektra wanted to tell him that Treasure or no, she'd known all along of the sweets Rachel tried hiding under her shirt. They both knew better though, and she couldn't lie. Her only defense was that Abby was in on it, distracting her while Rachel did the grunt work. Not much of a defense.

"I can't believe you actually called them on it." If he wasn't careful, he'd lose his 'Nice One' title.

Matt laughed sardonically, letting his hands move south to rest on her hips. "Years ago they opened one of those kids places a few blocks from the office. Chuck E Cheese, I think."

Elektra nodded absently. She'd seen the commercials, though she couldn't understand why franchises built around talking rodents were always so popular.

"Hoards of kids hopped up on soda and junk food. Foggy had no idea why I wanted to kill myself for six months." His ears still hated him for that. Luckily, a germ-infested playhouse hadn't worked in Hell's Kitchen and the place became an adult bookstore.

"You need to shave," Elektra murmured, running her hand along the rough skin of his face.

"And here I was thinking we had bigger problems."

"We do. You still need to shave. Smirking, Elektra pulled away from him, calling over the porch rail. "Guys, get in here!"

"Why?" Abby yelled, not appreciating the interruption.

The older woman almost, _almost_ countered with 'Because I said so!' stopping herself in the nick of time. This whole bizarre arrangement was entirely too domestic and it was starting to get to her. "Lunch."

"Is it ready now?"

No, but it wouldn't take long to reheat ravioli and Elektra had no intention of doing this a second time. "Yes," she replied loudly.

"Did you make it?" Abby's voice echoed over the lake.

Elektra gave her a look icy enough to carry across the distance from the cabin to the pier. Twenty seconds later, Matt held the door open as the females made their way inside. Abby tilted her head as she passed him, eyes scanning critically over his face. "You need to shave."

Rachel nodded gravely. "You're all scratchy."

"This is good, I went from a poor lawyer to a scratchy doorman. Definite improvement," he muttered, holding the door for his lover.

Elektra ignored his grumblings. She'd gone from heiress to assassin to soccer mom to babysitter. He wasn't getting sympathy on this.

* * *

The vibrating in his pocket startled him, so much so that Garrett nearly dropped what he was holding. Cursing, he put down the sniper rifle, staying low on the roof. His irritation quickly gave way to worry. He grabbed the phone after a second's worth of fumbling, checking the display screen. Two simple words.

'She-Devil.'

Fuck. She knew he was busy, he'd fucking told her he was busy. She wouldn't call unless something was up. "Is anybody dead?" he barked into the earpiece.

"No."

"Bleeding?"

"No."

"About to be dead or bleeding?"

"No."

For Christ sake's…the woman could be so infuriatingly stupid! Regulating his breathing, Garrett forced his voice to become level as well. "Dammit, E, don't _do _that."

Back at the cabin, Elektra sighed into the phone. She'd known he'd panic, but really it was his own damn fault. "Sorry."

"Yeah, of course you are. So everything's okay?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Garrett."

Pressed flat against the roof, Garrett released a shaky breath. "E, I'm kind of busy just now."

"Then don't answer your phone."

"I _answered_ because I thought there might be a reason for your call. But hey, if you've got nothing better to do-"

She cut him off, not in the mood for jokes about phone sex. "Talk to your niece."

"What? You said-"

"She's fine," Elektra promised, glancing at the blonde on the couch. Rachel was fine, at least in the way he meant, but he'd been stupid, leaving without saying goodbye and now he'd been gone too long. Despite reassurance from Matt and Abby, the kid was making herself sick with worry and Elektra could stand no more of it.

"E-"

"Just _talk"_, Elektra hissed, handing her cell phone to the child.

"Uncle Garrett?"

"Hey, brat."

"I'm not a brat," she replied indignantly.

"Try that on someone who doesn't know you, Rach." Even as he said it, a lump formed in his throat. He didn't know her anymore, hadn't known her for over four years.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Rachel, I'm fine. Are you having fun?" She'd just lost her father and he'd left her with strangers for the second time. God.

"Where are you?"

He scanned his surroundings, running his fingers over the gun. "Stuck in traffic."

"Are you coming back soon?"

"As soon as I can. There's a train in my way."

"Oh," Rachel mumbled dejectedly.

"Hey, it'll be okay, Rach. Promise. You all right?"

"Yeah."

"You don't sound all right."

"Daddy promised too."

God. Dammit. "Rachel, I don't know how to make this better."

On her end, Rachel slumped into the cushions, brightening slightly as she remembered something. "Can you do the voice?"

Voice? Oh hell, there was no way she still remembered that. "Rachel…"

"Please?"

Jesus, she wasn't even there to give him the doe eyed Bambi look this time. Elektra wasn't the only one going soft. "Is Elektra still there?"

"No."

"Matt and Abby?"

"They're watching TV."

Christ. The man with the sonar vision would hear him no matter what, but he probably owed her this much after four years of estrangement. "'Rey, Rachel. Rew re ray rood rirl."

The child giggled hysterically.

"Ron't re rad, Rachel." Rachel continued to laugh, causing her uncle to smile in relief. Sadly, that relief was short lived.

While Matt and Elektra had managed to stay silent, Abby had burst into her own hysterical fits of laughter.

Fuck. Shit. Damn, damn, damn, dammit to hell. "Elektra," he mumbled, reverting to his normal speech pattern.

"Garrett."

Her voice gave nothing away, but his imagination painted a clear enough picture of the smirk she had to be wearing. "You put her on speaker didn't you?"

Abby's choked cackling was answer enough. It was remarkable how he could feel himself blushing yet at the same time have all the blood drain from his face.

"Rachel?"

"Uncle Garrett."

"You said you were by yourself."

"Yeah."

"You weren't."

"Nope."

"You lied to me."

"You wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"E, take me off speaker phone." He waited a moment, hearing the faint sound of a button being pushed. Why hadn't he heard that the first time? "Elektra."

"Garrett."

"Step away from the child."

"What?"

"Step. Away. So she doesn't. Hear You."

"Fine."

He waited ten seconds. "Are you good?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, if you hear a loud banging noise, don't worry. It's just the bullet penetrating my skull."

"Garrett-"

"It's been fun, really has. Actually it hasn't, but that's beside the point. Rachel's favorite book has a stupid bear in a sailor suit on the cover. Have fun."

He hung up before she could formulate a response.

* * *

"I think I broke a rib," Abby groaned, wiping the moisture from her eyes. This was the first time she'd ever laughed herself to tears.

"You'll pull through," Matt chuckled.

Grinning, Abby got up from the couch, dropping down next to Rachel and the small mountain of toys on the floor. Scanning the possibilities, her eyes lit up on a child's pair of pink sunglasses.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"What are you _thinking_ about doing?"

"Nothing why?"

"Your heart skipped."

"Palpation," she shot back, looking intently at Matt's sightless eyes. "Rachel, want to play a game?"

Just after Garrett hung up on her, Elektra heard renewed fits of laughter coming from downstairs. Then she got a text from Abby.

'Help. Cant breathe.'

When she descended the stairs five seconds later, Elektra discovered that, as usual, her charge was exaggerating, but not by much. Abby had pressed a pillow over her head, burying it in the couch cushions in hopes of smothering the laughter. Periodically, she'd come up for air, catching a glimpse of Matt in too-small pink sunglasses. She was coughing and crying again and Elektra didn't doubt that this was causing some respiratory trouble.

Matt glared in her general direction. "I'm glad you're amused."

Elektra didn't bother to keep a straight face, but she did manage to refrain from laughing. Mostly.

"Ow," Abby moaned, still laughing uncontrollably.

"She won't let me take them off," Matt growled

Elektra wasn't sure who he was talking about. Abby, who was nearly biting the couch arm in her attempts to stop laughing, or Rachel, curled up on the floor and also giggling hysterically.

"E?"

She bit her lip, covering the laugh with a cough. Matt looked ready to club all three of them to death. "She won't let you take them off?" Elektra repeated.

"No," Matt replied in that same low growl.

"Smart kid," the brunette commented.

* * *

Stashing the rifle in his truck, Garrett strode into the small Boston diner he'd been surveilling for the last hour. Settling in a booth facing the door, he skimmed the menu, ultimately deciding that his stomach couldn't take the abuse. He ordered a flat soda when the waitress showed up, licking suddenly dry lips.

He sat there for twenty minutes, twirling a bendy straw through his drink. He stood up when she finally walked in, more habit than anything else. "Chastity McBryde," he greeted, lips curved in a sneering grin.

Tall and slim with long, curly blonde hair, Chastity sported a blindingly white pantsuit and obscenely high heels. "John Graham," she replied flatly. "Or should I say Joe Grimble? Jacob Penning? How about Garrett Perce?"

"I thought about using Pierce Brosnman for awhile but it seemed like too much."

"Mmhmm," she murmered, kissing him roughly on the lips. Her chest brushed against his and Garrett wondered if she'd gotten implants. She'd definitely changed the flavor of her lip gloss.

It went on for a good long time, her forcing her tongue into his mouth. He moaned when she nibbled on his lower lip, the sound quickly turning into a yelp as she bit too hard. "Fuck Chastity, "he mumbled, shoving her away from him.

"Not today, John. My lunch hour's been shortened." Words aside, Chastity placed her hand below his belt, eliciting another strangled groan.

"Not today, Chast." Reclaiming his seat, the hitman did his best to ignore the rush of blood to his lower half. Thankfully she backed off, taking the seat across from him. The same waitress who'd gotten his soda appeared again, brows quirked.

"Sorry," Chastity offered. "He just got home from Iraq, haven't seen him in months. Cesar salad, no dressing."

"And to drink?" the waitress questioned, surprised anyone could grope like that in public, war or no war.

"Ice tea," Garrett supplied.

"Diet," McBryde added.

"Probably a good idea," he stated after the woman left. "You've gained weight."

"Screw you, John."

"Not today, Chastity. Shortened lunch hour. You were late."

"You were early. And predictable. Nice rifle."

"I had to make sure you came alone, Chast, you know the rules."

"Really John, I always come alone."

"Not in Taipei."

"That was Craig's idea, not mine."

"Comforting. How is Craig?"

"He's not, died eight months ago."

Garrett nodded. "So?"

Chastity sighed, removing several flash drives from a hidden pocket in her jacket. Long red fingernails pushed them across the table. "Everything in your brother's files."

"Everything?"

"Everything that was in the house, though I don't know why you couldn't have taken them yourself."

"Time crunch. What about your stuff?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're getting at."

"Bullshit. I know Armstrong had Jimmy watched while he looked for me."

"Long enough to realize you weren't going to show up there. We didn't get anything significant."

"Chastity."

"I'm risking my clearance and my career here, John, and you're running out of favors."

"As always."

"No John. You're getting sloppy. The hospital in Jersey has you all over their security tapes."

"Time crunch, Chast, cut me some slack.'

"You should've killed the civilian."

"Who?"

"The doctor."

"Probably."

"What does she have on you?"

"The doctor?"

"The woman Janelle Porter saw in your apartment last week. The woman in the hospital tapes. What does Elektra have on you?"

"Nothing, she's never had anything on me."

"Right, this is your new, altruistic side."

"You sound bitter. Are you bitter, Chastity?"

"We swept your apartment before the cops did."

"Naturally."

"I found the tape in the closet. The one of us."

Shit. "I honestly didn't know the camera was on."

"Honestly. Do you know what would've happened if one of the other team members found that?"

"I can guess. If it makes you feel any better, I honestly thought I taped over that with a Nicks game."

"Flattering. What a great role model for Rachel."

Garrett stiffened, eyes sparking dangerously. "I don't have her."

McBryde nodded indulgently. "Never pegged you for a Scooby Doo fan."

Wasn't this just perfect? "Is there anyone on the East coast that didn't hear that?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I honestly thought it was pretty good."

"It doesn't."

"Told you you're getting sloppy."

Garrett forced himself to relax, studying her face with a practiced eye. "Chastity? You might want to work on your makeup routine."

"Really John, we both like it better when you're direct about your opinions."

He shrugged just as the waitress returned with Chastity's order. "Okay. Wash your face, you look like a whore." Seeing the waitress's stunned expression, Garrett tossed off an explanation. "We're in the middle of a nasty divorce. She wants my father's antique baseball cards; do _you _think that's right?"

The server walked away.

"Friendly people, I can see why you moved here."

"Assigned, John, I was assigned here. Some of us have respect for our work."

"You're having lunch with the guy you're supposed to find and arrest, don't whine to me about career goals."

"You should come back, John."

Garrett shook his head at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, his former partner. "Appealing as that sounds, I have no desire to visit supermax."

"I know you accessed Bullseye's file. You need to come back."

"Why, so they can beat me to death for selling government secrets?"

"You worked for a black ops division, John. You can't head for the hills without expecting consequences."

"I didn't tell anyone anything about our joke of a division, babe. Didn't even tell the taxpayers that their money's being spent on a giant blimp."

"It's a helicarrier," she corrected defensively, taking a bite of her salad.

"It's a blimp, Chastity. A giant, money sucking blimp."

"It's S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, John."

"Don't tell me that, Chast, I might spill my guts to the Russians. I need you to do something else for me."

"What a shock."

"Find something on Wilson Fisk. Don't look at me like that because you and I and Armstrong's joke of an agency all know that he's dirty."

"First off, Armstrong's dead. Nick Fury runs things now."

"Nick Fury? That's a real name?"

"And second, we deal in national security, not crimelord-philanthrapists."

"You deal in national security, but you spend your time resurrecting psychopaths and rummaging through my sex tapes?"

"Bullseye was a mistake, Armstrong was an idiot. We were new back then, things change in eight years. I'm not wasting time on Fisk so you can look like a hero to your old fuck-buddy."

"Watch it, Chast."

"What do you want me to do, John? Her boyfriend killed a man in his home, broke out of jail-"

"Did he? You have the footage? Because I think the guards were attacked by a blonde asshole with a beard. And I think he forced a confused blind guy to leave that jail with him. And I think he might still be holding said blind guy somewhere."

"Uh huh."

"He was making trouble, Chast, trying to expose Fisk for what he is. He got close, Kingpin got nervous."

"Fascinating. The tape?"

"It's a fake."

"Uh huh."

Garrett leaned forward, eyes boring into hers. "The tape _is _a fake Chastity."

"And the kidnapping charges?"

He waved dismissively. "Short lunch hour, babe, don't waste my time. Fisk makes Gotti look like Mother Teresa. I'm asking you to prove what's already true, should be easier than the bullshit you people usually sling."

"You know this'll count as four favors, maybe five."

"You owe me, put it on my tab."

"I've heard she's quite the bitch."

Garrett's arm twitched, longing for his revolver. "Yeah, you two would get along great."

"You're being witty, that's new."

"Elektra's not part of this. Fisk killed my brother. When I bash his skull in, people aren't going to be mourning a great humanitarian."

"You sound bitter. Are you bitter, John?"

"Hell yes."

There was a brief silence. Then, "You read all of Bullseye's file?"

Garrett sighed, resting his elbows on the table. "Yeah, yeah I did."

McBryde captured one of his hands, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said gruffly, not returning the pressure.

Chastity took her hand away. "Do they know?"

"Not your business."

The blonde in the pantsuit looked mildly surprised. "Your ninja skank fuck-buddy doesn't know?"

If he'd been drinking something, it would've ended up all over her face. "Ninja. Skank. Fuck-buddy."

The agent shrugged. "I heard she was involved with ninjas."

"She...not…Christ. Don't ever say that again, especially in front of her."

"Are you planning to arrange a meeting?"

"She'd kill you, you get that right? That she'd kill you and she'd enjoy doing it?"

"How bad is it?' McBryde questioned, changing the subject again.

"Not bad," he lied. As if in punishment for the deception, his nose began to gush like a fountain. Chastity gave him a napkin, too late to stop a small drop of red from hitting his chest.

"You always were a lousy liar, John."

He snorted, blood running down his throat. "And how long did it take you and Armstrong to find out my name wasn't John?"

"Touché." She waited him out, removing a tiny, black case from her jacket. Once the flow stopped, she slid the case across the table. "We also found the pharmacy in your bathroom."

Garrett held the item with something akin to reverence, eventually depositing it inside his own jacket. Smiling, he took her hand, raising it to his lips. "Chastity." He punctuated each word with a kiss to one of her fingers. "You. Are. A. Goddess."

"And a whore, don't forget that."

"_Look_. I said you _look _like one. You _are _a goddess." He paused, examining her ring finger. "You got married?"

"'Fraid so. Lost your invitation in the mail."

"Do I want to know?"

"Craig."

Craig. Dead Craig. "Jesus. Sorry, Chast."

"You hated him."

"So did you."

"Things change."

"Apparently. Don't take this the wrong way, but I always thought he was psychotic."

"He was."

"Huh. And how exactly did he exit his earthly vessel."

"Car bomb."

"Planted by?"

"Officially? He had lots of enemies."

"Unofficially?"

"He had anger problems, and I liked having my space."

* * *

"Hello, kiddies."

"Uncle Garrett!"

Rachel flew at him like a rocket, almost knocking him over. Lifting her up, Garrett struggled to loosen her grip on his neck. "Rach, I can't breathe."

"Common problem today," Abby scoffed.

Murdock threw her a glare. Garrett wanted to ask, but ended up swallowing his curiosity. The blind man looked moderately shell-shocked, like he was recovering from a traumatic event.

"You're scratchy," Rachel declared, small fingers tracing his stubble-covered face.

"Also a common problem today," Matt drawled. Hunched over on the couch, he longed for the days of maroon leather and endless beatings.

For her part, Elektra was simply glad Garrett was back. She hadn't been willing to endanger herself, Matt, or Abby because of his need for answers, but she had worried. Rachel wouldn't take another loss, and she, Elektra, wouldn't take the consequences of one.

The former assassin joined them in the living room, wondering idly if Rachel ever planned on releasing her uncle.

"What's that?"

Rachel's innocent query had everyone looking up. Garrett, who'd somehow managed to remove his jacket despite Rachel's grip, looked down, noting the small red spot she was pointing to.

Fuck, how could she even see that? It was miniscule, barely there at all. Covering the dot on his shirt, Garrett sat down in one of the chairs. "Nothing kid, it's just marinara sauce."

"But you had that yesterday."

"I snuck some this morning, must've spilled."

"Maybe you need a bib."

"Maybe."

Elektra looked at Matt, who nodded in her direction. A distant part of her hoped he hadn't killed anyone, though she probably wouldn't bother asking.

* * *

Hours later, Garrett sat at the table with his laptop, opening file after file. Matt and Abby were dead to the world, falling asleep on the couch after the third viewing of _Toy Story_. Cracking his neck, Garrett watched Elektra descend the stairs. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

Always so kind in her taking of gratitude. "I don't do hair."

"I noticed." She'd spent the last hour fixing Garrett's sad excuse for a braid. "She'll be down in a minute to say goodnight."

"Double thanks." Leaning back in his chair, Garrett rubbed tired eyes. "Ethan worries me."

Elektra said nothing, knowing what was on his mind. Burke was still alive; he'd mastered Kimagure years ago. He should've been able to locate them by now. "Find anything?"

"Would you care if I had? There's still a lot to go through." Reminded of his task, Garrett clicked on another file, this one containing audio. A smooth voice came over the speakers, making the hitman frown in confusion. "What the hell?"

Elektra joined him, puzzlement marring her own features. The language was unfamiliar, but somehow…

"You recognize this?" Garrett asked, unable to recall just how many dialects she was fluent in.

"It's Japanese," she replied, though it took almost a full minute.

Garrett shook his head. "No, I don't much of that but-"

"Reversed."

"How could you see that?" Garrett was awed and dumbfounded in equal parts.

"My father used to put little codes in my puzzles, cassettes, things like that."

"That's…unbelievably creepy and dysfunctional."

Much like the rest of her childhood. She was about to comment when she noticed Rachel poised at the top of the stairs. "Garrett…"

Following her gaze, he saw his niece standing there, dressed and ready for bed. Then he looked harder, seeing what Elektra did. "Jesus," he muttered urgently, upsetting both the chair and the computer in his rush to get upstairs.

Elektra followed, pulse beating faster and faster the closer they got to the child. Skidding to a halt, Garrett dropped to his knees, cupping Rachel's tear-stained cheeks in his hands. Expressive brown eyes were now wide and empty. "Rachel? Rachel, talk to me."

She hadn't heard him, that was clear. The child's body shook wildly, sweat and tears mixing on her expressionless face. There was a puddle of urine between her legs.

"Dammit Rachel," Garrett yelled, smacking her cheek lightly. "Rachel, baby what happened?"

It was the first time she'd seen him panic. Pulling his hand back, Elektra removed it from Rachel's face. This wasn't helping and he wasn't thinking and he'd end up hurting her if he wasn't careful.

Abby joined them on the landing, woken by the sudden commotion. "God. Elektra, what-?"

"I don't know. Garrett let go. Garrett!" With effort, she loosened his terror-fueled grip on Rachel's shoulders, knowing the delicate skin there would soon be an ugly shade of blue.

"Turn it off."

Abby and Elektra barely heard Matt's instruction. Garrett didn't hear it at all.

"Turn it off," he repeated.

Elektra froze. His tone was soft, but there was an edge to it. She hadn't heard him speak like that since-

"What?" Abby muttered. The speakers were on low, voice emanating from them barely audible to begin with, drowned out now by Garrett's frightened pleas..

"Turn off the goddamn tape!" Matt snarled. Rooted to the floor, he made no move to do it himself.

In her haste to comply, Abby nearly fell down the stairs. Matt rarely raised his voice to her, and he sure as hell never sounded like that. Except… Closer now, Abby knew what he meant, able, just barely, to discern the strange language drifting through the room. Reaching the tipped-over computer, Abby slammed the monitor closed, silencing the voice within.

The result was instantaneous. Above, Rachel blinked for the first time in minutes. The trembling ceased long enough for her to recognize her uncle and his friend. Then she buried herself in Garrett's chest.

"Rachel. Hey, sweetie. Hey, I'm right here okay?"

"Don't be mad," she sobbed, shudders returning full-force. "Don't be mad, Uncle Garrett. Please don't be mad!"

He glanced at Elektra, desperation clear in his eyes. "Rachel, no. No sweetie, shhh."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to...I didn't…"

He wasn't sure if she was referring to the accident on the floor, her sudden disconnect from the world, or both. "I'm not mad at you kid, hear me? You're okay. I promise. I promise, okay?"

Below, Matt was stiff as a board, his eyes clouded with something that had nothing to do with his blindness. Abby studied him cautiously, feeling sick for reasons she couldn't name. Matt's posture, his whole body language was all wrong.

Like the night he put a knife through her hand.

Elektra hovered uncertainly. Garrett was shaking as well and he kept begging her for help, eyes speaking where his mouth couldn't. But God, Matt. Peering over the railing, she saw Abby standing by the computer alone. Dammit.

Turning back to Garrett, she was surprised to see him hold his palm up behind Rachel's back. Still murmuring in his niece's ear, he jerked his chin slightly. When she didn't move, he did it again, more insistently this time.

Accepting the signal that he would be okay, Elektra sprinted down the stairs, halting in front of her protégé. The teen was gripping the table edge in to stay upright, gaze locked on the floor. "Look at me," Elektra commanded sharply.

Abby complied. There was fear there, but no blood, no injuries. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Abby replied softly, closing her eyes tight.

"No," Elektra refuted firmly. "Are you okay?"

Brown eyes met green. "He didn't hurt me."

Of course not. Why would she think otherwise? Sunuvabitch. "Sit," Elektra commanded, pushing the younger warrior towards the chair.

Abby shook her head weakly. "I'm f-"

"Sit."

Abby sat, knees buckling as soon as she gave them the chance.

"Where is he?

"Went out the back door. E-"

"I know. Relax."

"E, he's not…he wasn't-"

"I know, relax."

"But-"

"I'll be right back."

She was out the door before Abby could blink.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **First off, I'd like to beg forgiveness from everyone still reading this. Between college, writer's block, and my dismally short attention span I just couldn't seem to get this done. I hope the fact that it's the longest update yet will help make up for the ridiculously long wait. I'm done with school until the end of January so hopefully the updates will come faster. As always, reviews are a writer's best friend so leave some feedback on your way out.

* * *

Nearly twenty-four hours ago, Elektra had stormed into the woods, a pointless attempt at escape from everything she feared most. Matt chased her last night, as she'd known he would.

Jogging briskly through the dark, Elektra found she didn't much care for the role reversal..

She called his name more than once, recognizing the futility of it. Unconsciously following the route she herself had taken, Elektra noticed a bullet-riddled target painted on one of the trees. Abby had come in with a gun this morning. They needed to talk about that.

She should've brought a weapon. The sais were locked away because Matt didn't want to scare the kid.

Matt.

Déjà vu. He faced away from her, resting his arm against a tree maybe six feet from where he'd caught up with her before. Her breathing had been harsh, ragged. Coming up behind him, Elektra realized with a jolt that he wasn't actually taking in air. "Matt."

He twitched without speaking.

Dammit. Stepping into what should've been his line of sight, she registered the hard, twisted lines of his face. Not blank, not how he'd looked a few minutes ago. Hard and twisted was probably better than totally expressionless. Probably.

She should've taken a knife from the rack in the kitchen. "Matt."

She kept her distance. She hadn't had a weapon before either. The night Abby got stabbed.

Matt's hand fisted into his jeans. She thought he was breathing again, but couldn't be sure. He had her beat on physical strength, but Elektra was far more skilled in far more fighting styles. But they'd trained Matt while he was gone, she'd seen him do things he couldn't have done before.

She should've brought the knife.

"Pierce is with the Hand."

Elektra jerked, ashamed of herself for doing it. Stick, and her father, and all the other sensei of her youth would be ashamed. The tone hit her before the words. Matt sounded like Matt. There was pain and anger and a million other repressed emotions there, but they were his. Maybe she didn't need the knife.

Matt forced himself to stay in the moment, clinging to the sound of Elektra breathing. If he could do that, he could make himself okay. He heard her breath catch when she finally realized what he'd said, answering the question before her lips could form it. "Not Garrett, the brother. Rachel's father."

* * *

"Rachel-"

"Leave me alone."

"Kiddo, I can't…I need..."

"Lay off," Abby advised, not unkindly.

Shoulders slumping, Garrett shifted his eyes from his niece to the teenager on the stairs. Fresh from her bath, Rachel was curled in on herself in front of the TV that wasn't on. She held a small pillow against herself, using it like a shield to ward him off.

Perched on the third riser from the bottom, Abby shook her head gently in hopes of making Garrett stop. The questioning was doing nothing aside from making Rachel more upset.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Garrett ran a finger over his niece's cheek, displacing the one tear that hadn't dried yet. "Tired?"

Rachel shook her head no, keeping her eyes on the pillow she was holding.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, the hitman forced himself not to snap. If she wouldn't tell him what was wrong, she could at least be truthful about something. "I think you are tired."

"I don't want to go to sleep," she replied stubbornly.

Abby stood up, joining her on the couch. "Its fine, we'll just sit here for awhile."

Garrett shot her a look. "Rach…"

"Garrett," Abby cautioned.

Elektra entered through the back before he could push any further. Abby met her halfway between the kitchen and living room. "Is he..?"

Elektra made a truly pathetic attempt at a smile. "How is she?"

Abby glanced at the girl on the couch. "Better. How's he?"

Pressing her lips together, Elektra resisted the urge to send her charge somewhere else. "Don't worry."

"Too late. Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?"

Elektra looked away.

"Dr. Matt?"

"Scary thought." Matt's voice drifted in. The blind man shut the door behind him, moving stiffly towards them.

Studying him intently, Abby decided that it wouldn't be necessary to run for the stun gun. He didn't look quite right, but he didn't look homicidal either. "Sorry," the teen apologized. He wasn't supposed to hear her sad excuse for code-speak.

"Forget it," the lawyer muttered. Keeping a healthy distance from the others, he felt three sets of eyes boring into him.

Elektra made herself look away, not liking the way he was carrying himself. Letting her eyes sweep over Rachel, she noted the girl's determination not to look at any of them. Then her eyes landed on Garrett. "Let's go outside."

In the process of getting up from the table, he froze, frayed nerves made worse by her tone. "Rachel-"

"Abby can watch her," Elektra cut in.

"Yeah," the teen agreed carefully, "Abby can watch her."

"Good," Elektra stated, crossing to the front door to wait for him on the porch.

Eyebrows raised, Garrett turned to his niece. "You going to be okay for a minute?"

She nodded, still not looking at him.

"Okay," Garrett murmured, brushing a hand through blonde hair. "I'll be right outside," he added unnecessarily.

Shrugging indifferently, she sank further into the couch, away from his touch.

Reluctantly, Garrett walked into the cool night air, surprised when Murdock followed, closing the door on Abby and Rachel. "What's going on here?"

He posed the question to Elektra, who took longer than she should have to respond. "Did Rachel tell you what happened in there?"

"No," Garrett replied, keeping one eye on Murdock. The lawyer was giving off a vibe that didn't sit well with him. "And that's not an answer." He looked at Matt. "Why'd you-"

"Did you know Jimmy was involved with them?" Matt growled.

"Who?" the hitman questioned, arm dropping towards the gun in his waistband. Murdock wasn't behaving like Murdock anymore and Garrett's personal space was rapidly disappearing.

"Matt," Elektra said warningly.

"The Hand, did you know your brother was involved with them?" Matt growled, knowing already what the response would be

Releasing a shocked bark of laughter, Garrett fought the urge to pinch himself, wanting to verify that he was awake. "Is this a joke? Am I supposed to get this?"

"The man on the file," Elektra replied. "He's one of them."

"The man on the file. Backwards Japanese guy. You're telling me this guy is a Hand operative?"

"Yes."

"That…why would Jimmy have anything from them on his computer?"

"That's what I'm asking you," Elektra replied. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled on Matt's forearm, trying to create space between him and Garrett. He ignored the nonverbal request, tensed muscles going rigid at her touch.

Shaking his head, Garrett looked from one to the other in disbelief. "You think he was in on it? You think _Jimmy _was one of them?"

"Look," Elektra said calmly, "Rachel's obviously had some kind of exposure to that tape-"

"I'm not disputing that!" he yelled. The emotions he'd suppressed for Rachel's sake were exploding to the surface without his consent. "Something made her react the way she did, I know that, but you're not going to stand here and tell me that my brother, her _father…"_

In the midst of his anger, Garrett had stepped around Matt, moving closer to Elektra. Blank, milky eyes were locked fixedly on his face. "Move back," Matt ordered, voice deadly quiet.

"Matt stop," Elektra warned, using her left arm to pull him closer to her and farther from Garrett.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Garrett declared. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded of Matt, not waiting for an answer. "And you," he continued, shifting his gaze back to Elektra, "you have a running knowledge of everyone on the Hand's roster now? How exactly did we go from evil audio file to Jimmy being one of Roshi's goons?'

The hand gripping Matt's wrist tightened involuntarily. For some reason, Elektra couldn't bring herself to speak.

"It's not hers," Matt's voice filled the heavy silence. "That running knowledge of his men, it's not Elektra's."

Garrett blinked, blinked again. "When you were supposed to be dead," he murmured slowly, combining rumors with bits of information he'd learned from Stick during that final chat.

"That computer was protected."

Garrett nodded mutely, despite the fact that it hadn't been a question and Matt wouldn't be able to see the movement. And yet the blind lawyer was looking right at him. Not towards him, not over his head, but directly into his eyes. Mentally shaking himself, Garrett ignored the nervousness that wanted to overtake him. "Cha—my contact had the files for days and he still hadn't come close to decrypting everything."

"So we can assume that that file wouldn't be there unless your brother wanted it to be," Matt replied coldly.

"Hey," Elektra growled, pressing her fingers against Matt's racing pulse.

"No," Garrett told Matt, chocolate brown eyes sparkling dangerously. "We aren't going to _assume _that Jimmy had anything that would send his kid-"

"Garrett don't," Elektra commanded, eyes moving to the door, mind moving to the girls behind it.

"Don't? Don't what? How do you expect me to react to this?" he asked loudly.

Garrett had moved closer to Elektra again. It was an unconscious (and unsuccessful) way of intimidating her with height and presence. It'd never worked before, it didn't work now, but Garrett did it without thought, forgetting that E wasn't among the ninety-eight percent of people it would've worked on.

"Back. Off."

"Matt!" Elektra yelled, forgetting her attempt to keep it down for the girls' sake. Freeing his wrist, she cupped his face in her hands. There was no tenderness there, no gentleness when she forced his gaze away from Garrett. "Don't."

Confusion rising almost as fast as anger, Garrett stared between the couple with narrowed eyes. "Elektra?"

"Just move back," she replied curtly. "Matt."

"What?" he asked coolly.

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

Not now, she couldn't deal with this now. Lowering her hands to her sides, Elektra spoke to Garrett but kept her eyes on Matt. "If he was involved with them,-"

"He wasn't," Garrett interrupted.

"Right," Matt said coolly. "That file just came with the computer. Free program that makes people-"

"Matt!" Elektra cut in. This time she looked at Garrett. "_If_ he had something to do with them, it's possible he wasn't himself when it happened." She left it at that, omitting for now the possibility that Jimmy Pierce hadn't actually been Jimmy Pierce.

"When _what _happened?" Garrett yelled. "We have no reason to think-"

"We have _every _reason," Matt argued. "Every. Reason. In the world."

"You know the voice. Right? I'm assuming that's the basis for this?"

"Brilliant deduction."

"Well what if you're wrong? Everything I know about it, you were half out of your mind when Roshi-"

"Not half," Matt corrected. "Completely. Completely out of my mind, due mostly to the man on that file. The file your brother had stored on his computer." His tone, which had tuned colder and colder as the exchange went on, was positively glacial when he said, "Rachel seemed to like it though."

"You don't know shit about my brother Murdock, and you aren't going to stand here accusing him-"

"Why not?"

"I'd know, dammit! I'd know if he were-"

"Did he know about your time with Stick?"

Garrett's mouth formed a silent snarl.

"Did you know Bullseye was attending your niece's birthday parties?" Matt pressed, contempt rolling off him.

"That's enough," Elektra declared. The distance between her one-time lover and the love of her life was getting smaller by the second. Garrett's hand kept jerking towards his gun and Matt's fist was clenching against what she suspected was an invisible billy club.

"No, no it's not enough," Matt retorted. "Rachel knows_ him_, and you want me to-"

"_Him," _Garrett mimicked scathingly. "Who's to say you're not wrong about _him_?"

"I had that voice in my head every day for months. Don't tell me I can't recognize it."

"This is bullshit!" Garrett shouted. Forcing his way past Matt, he made to go inside, only to find his path blocked by a scowling brunette.

"Garrett."

"E."

"Calm down."

"No. Move."

"No."

"E, I want to talk to my niece."

"Not like this."

"Fuck you!" he roared. "Matty here thinks he has all the answers, we're going to find out. Right now."

"Stop."

"Get out of my way."

"She's listening to all of this," said Matt. "You go in there the way you are now-"

"And what? I'll hurt her? The same way Jimmy apparently did?" Disgusted and enraged, Garrett tried to shoulder past the former assassin, forgetting momentarily about her recent injury.

Like the rest of the exchange, what happened next happened very rapidly, spinning out of control before any of the three could process their actions. Elektra drew a quick intake of breath, wincing as Garrett's arm pressed against hers, the arm that was already sore from the exercise she'd put it through this morning. The haze of fear, anger, and frustration that Garrett had found himself under for the last half hour lifted. Eyes dropping in shame, he stepped away from the door and the woman in front of it. "Sorry, I didn't-"

Garrett didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he found himself pinned against the porch railing with Matt Murdock gripping his shirt collar. The hand that went instinctively for the firearm was soon pinned as well.

"Don't. Touch. Her."

The voice didn't belong to Matt or Daredevil, because the man who spoke was no longer Matt, or Daredevil, or any combination of the two.

Elektra took three steps across the wide porch, Matt's name on her lips. Then Matt fell back a few steps of his own when Garrett's fist collided with his cheek, the blow carrying more power than Matt thought it would. Next moment, Garrett slammed Matt against the rail with one hand, using the other to pull out his revolver.

His first revolver actually, one of the rare Christmas presents Jimmy bothered with when they were kids.

Pressing the gun to Matt's chin, Garrett held up one arm to stop Elektra coming closer. "I don't know what's going on here, E but I promise you, if he tries that again-"

"Put it down, Garrett."

"If he tries that again, I will decorate my welcome mat with his brains."

"And if you don't get that gun off him I'll put the bridge of your nose into _your_ brain."

"Same threat different year."

Elektra had just decided to break Garrett's wrist (before Matt decided to do anything worse) when the front door flew open. Elektra and Garrett whirled automatically, the latter still holding his weapon. Matt straightened up, but otherwise remained still. His face was a mask of nothingness.

Rachel stood on the threshold with Abby behind her, eyes trained on the gun her uncle was holding on her.

Eyes widening Abby shoved the younger girl into the house. "Get rid of that," Abby hissed furiously.

"Fucking hell," Garrett muttered, stashing the gun in its usual place. "Christ, Murdock," he continued, throwing the blind man a look of undisguised malice as he passed.

"Garrett," Elektra warned, watching Matt's blank eyes sparkle dangerously.

"Not. Now."

Entering the house, Garrett saw his niece hurtling up the stairs, trembling almost unnoticeably. "Rach. Rachel."

She ignored him, the door to her room slamming shut.

Slamming his fist against the nearest wall, Garrett rounded on Abby. "You were supposed to be watching her."

"I was! She heard you screaming your head off and it freaked her out!"

"And you, the Treasure, couldn't beat a seven year old before she made it to the door?"

"Excuse me if I didn't feel like holding her down on the couch. And in case you lost track, she's also _the Treasure_, so cut me a little slack here."

"Garrett," Elektra called, coming to stand next to Abby.

"I don't need you to-"

"Quiet," Elektra snapped before Abby could finish.

"No, you know what? She's right, she's absolutely right, it's not her fault at all." Turning to the fourth occupant of the room, Garrett glared daggers at Matt.

Matt said nothing. The bubble of heightened emotion had shattered, returning some of the self-control he'd lost. Now there was nothing but a raging fight in his own mind and an overwhelming sense of shame.

Eyeing him warily, Elektra felt her stomach twist into a painful knot. Maintaining eye contact, she carefully moved so that she was slightly in front of Abby. "You pulled a gun," she reminded Garrett.

"My gut reaction when being attacked," Garrett said through clenched teeth. "Has he developed laryngitis, or are you his new translator?"

Silent up to now, Matt spoke to Elektra without any kind of inflection. "I'm going back outside."

"Matt-"

"I'm going back outside," he repeated tonelessly. Hand on the doorknob, he addressed his girlfriend again. This time there was a kind of quiet desperation in his voice. "You should take the kids somewhere else."

"Not a kid," Abby mumbled, though there was no fire behind the words.

Matt smiled at that. Somewhat. Garrett thought it more of a wry smirk.

"Sorry," Matt replied, bowing his head in mock remorse. "One kid, one burgeoning adult."

Utterly lost, Garrett watched incredulously as Murdock left them again. Refocusing on the others, Garrett saw Elektra relax imperceptibly, abandoning her protective pose. Abby was staring expectantly at her mentor while scratching absently at a spot on her left hand.

"Elektra..."

"Garrett," she began wearily.

Sensing an oncoming deflection, Garrett scowled in disbelief. "Garrett what? Huh? Should I not be worried about this? What do you want to say?"

Green orbs glinted furiously as she advanced on him. "Not now. Not from you."

"Goddammit!" he cursed, nearly shaking with rage. Shutting his eyes tight, the hitman attempted to compose himself, holding up a warning finger as he backed towards the stairs. "I'm going upstairs to talk to Rachel. Then I'm coming back down here and you are going to tell me-"

"Fine," Elektra snapped.

"Fine? Fine, that's all I get?"

"Yeah," she replied icily, "that's all you get."

Tongue crushed between his teeth, Garrett jogged up the stairs with an ease that bellied the weight he felt bearing down on him.

"Go to your room," Elektra commanded.

"Elektra," the teen protested, "let me-"

"I'm not letting you do anything right now. Go to your room and lock the door."

"It's not my room," she replied, without a hint of her trademark sarcasm. Noting the strained look on her mentor's face, Abby did something very unusual. Awkwardly, she took the older woman's right hand in her left, rubbing small circles along the back. "It'll be fine. You know it will."

"Sure," Elektra murmured. Pulling her hand away, she grabbed hold of Abby's fingers, turning them over to examine the palm. The scar there was an eternal reminder of Matt's attack on them last year.

"It's nothing," Abby declared, embarrassment spilling over as she reclaimed her hand.

Elektra didn't argue the point, even as her protégé resumed the nervous rubbing she'd done earlier. It was a relatively new habit, her scratching at the mark as if she could remove it through will alone. It only happened when Abby was stressed. It only started when Matt dropped the subterfuge and reappeared in their lives.

"He's better now," Abby persisted. "This…this is just..."

"I know that. Go to your room."

"Not my room," the girl corrected, forcing a mischievous half-smile.

"Go to _a _room," Elektra replied, forcing her tone to lighten. She even managed an amused smirk, though how she did it was a complete mystery.

Reluctantly, Abby headed upstairs, conscious of a need to keep the tension level from reaching boiling point. Foot hitting the third riser from the top, Abby voiced a soft, final question. "Lock the door?"

"Lock the door," Elektra confirmed.

She hadn't expected the directive to change, but it was worth a shot. Releasing a shaky breath, Abby trudged to the second floor, Elektra's gaze boring into her until she reached the safety of a locked guestroom.

* * *

"He wants me to _what_?"

"Call off the surveillance on Franklin Nelson," Maya repeated patiently.

Nervously, Cromwell glanced around at the fellow G-Men passing his cubicle. There were still a few overachievers milling around, even though the workday had ended over four hours ago. Speaking in a low whisper, the agent clutched the phone tighter against his ear. "I told you people not to call me directly."

"You're worried about nothing."

A vein popped into view in the middle of Tom Cromwell's forehead. "Despite what he thinks, your boss doesn't own _everyone_ on this task force." Fumbling in one of his desk drawers, Cromwell felt enamel weakening as his teeth gnashed against each other. "He's the one who wanted Nelson tracked, and now-"

"Now, Tom, he wants your men gone within the hour."

Cromwell nearly jumped out of his skin. Fisk's little pet, a woman Tom had begun to think of as the reincarnation of Eva Braun, had swooped in out of nowhere. Hanging up the phone with one hand, Cromwell gripped a pack of cigarettes with the other. "How long were you standing there?"

"Get rid of the van in front of his apartment."

"A little warning would be nice," he hissed, searching his pocket for a lighter. "You're not supposed to be here now."

Maya frowned. Cromwell had looked away from her during his search for the lighter, meaning she had no idea what he'd said. Swallowing her annoyance, Maya tossed Cromwell a nondescript white envelope.

Damn, he'd lost the damn lighter. Cursing inwardly, Tom reached for the envelope, quickly checking its contents. "Somebody miscounted."

Arching a brow, Maya rested her hands against his desk. "You're lucky to be getting that much."

Stuffing the unmarked bills under a pile of forms, Cromwell scowled defensively. "I did my part, getting him in custody wasn't the problem. Rykers not being able to hold on to him isn't my problem."

"No, but your inability to get him _back _into custody has nothing to do with Rykers."

"I only have so much jurisdiction, remember? And if this is about Nelson getting off then-"

"Nelson is irrelevant without Murdock."

"Well if Murdock has any sense in him, he and Charlie's Angel are set up in Mexico right now. He's not going to stay here with this much heat on him."

"Possibly. Mr. Fisk happens to disagree. Leave Nelson alone."

"I thought Fat Froggy Nelson was irrelevant without Murdock?"

"Without him yes, to him no." Turning her back on Cromwell, Maya disappeared amid the maze of identical workstations.

"Stupid bitch," Cromwell muttered, reclaiming the envelope from beneath his mountain of busywork. Shaking his head at the pitiful amount (at least compared to what he'd made previously) Tom glanced over to where Eve Braun Jr. had leaned against his desk. Shaking his head a second time, Tom snatched up the magically appearing lighter and reached for his phone.

"It's done," Maya said confidently, striding towards a waiting limo.

"Good. Wait forty minutes, be careful."

Watching her surrogate father's lips on the display screen of her phone, Maya nodded while climbing into the back seat. "There won't be any problems, I promise."

"I know. Maya, your father would be proud of you."

Maya practically glowed at the words.

* * *

Ending the call, Fisk sat back in his chair, a cruel smile playing across his face. His next move was by no means original, but that didn't mean anything. Elektra and the blind man were known to disappear without a trace, but that couldn't happen now. He wanted them here, and he wanted the child they surely had with them. Fisk wasn't sure how that came to be, but the precision with which his men had been killed could only come from Elektra.

No, the plan wasn't particularly original, but it had worked in the past. When Bullseye kidnapped Franklin Nelson two years ago, Murdock and his girlfriend had come running faster than you could blink. Fisk was simply taking Bullseye's strategy to a new level.

Smirking happily, Fisk tapped the headset at his ear, enormous fingers pressing one of the speed dial buttons of his phone.

* * *

"Rach, sweetie I know it's been a tough night-"

"You don't know anything," Rachel said stubbornly.

"Okay, why don't you tell me then?" Garrett asked. Back resting against Rachel's bed, he studied the blonde across from him. Rachel was fixated on one of her coloring books. Usually adamant about staying within the lines, the girl scribbled mindlessly, uncaring of how the end product would look.

"Rachel," Garrett repeated, more firmly this time. Scooting forward to take the marker from her grasp, he sat back again when she recoiled from him. Sick to his stomach, Garrett wiped a bead of sweat trying to climb down his forehead. "Rach, I'd never…you know that I'd never hurt you."

"What about Matt?" she asked, still looking at her book.

"Rach-"

"You would've hurt him."

Sighing, Garrett shoved his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. "Kiddo, I wasn't thinking okay? We were just…all of us were scared and-"

"Scared people do stupid things."

Garrett nodded slowly. "Yeah, I suppose that's true. You come up with that on your own or did you hear it from someone?"

Brown eyes met brown for the briefest of moments, then Rachel was back to her coloring. "Someone like Daddy?"

"Yeah, someone like him. Rach, he never…he didn't…?"

"I don't want to talk about Daddy," she snapped, page ripping as she pressed the marker too hard.

Inching forward on the ground, Garrett forced his voice to stay level. "Yeah, I figured that one out, but I think we need to talk about Daddy."

"No we don't."

"Then maybe I need to talk about him."

"Do whatever you want."

Mouth going dry, Garrett felt his temper rising. "Hey, I know you aren't keen on being my best friend right now, but you're not going to talk to me like that."

"Like you care."

Scooting closer, the hitman gently took hold of the coloring book, closing it and throwing it to one side. "Don't pull this, you're not the only one-"

"Don't pretend you care then," the girl shot back, glaring daggers at her uncle.

"You know what? I've had enough crazy personality changes for one night, so why don't you tell me what's going on here?" He wasn't yelling, but he damn well wanted to.

"You left."

"Rachel," he said tightly. "I love you. You know that. How long are you going to hold this over my head?"

"How long before you go away again?" Rachel asked, some of the fight draining out of her.

"Rach," Garrett murmured. Brushing her chin with his finger, he was relieved when she didn't pull away. "I'm sorry; I don't know what else to say."

"You left me alone with him."

Now it was Garrett's turn to recoil. "Rachel…did he hurt you?"

"No."

"No?"

"Daddy loved me."

"What happened on the landing?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing. Why'd that tape scare you so much?"

"I don't know," she muttered, staring at a spot on the floor.

Studying her for a long minute, Garrett pinned his niece under an intense gaze. "Don't lie to me, kid, not about this."

"I'm not," the girl snapped.

"You are," he retorted.

"Leave me alone."

"I thought you didn't want me to leave."

Rachel shrugged, watching him from under her bangs. "You will anyway."

"Dammit Rach-"

"I want to talk to Abby."

Taken aback, Garrett blinked in surprise. "Abby."

"Abby likes me."

"And I don't?"

Rachel glared at him.

"Where are you getting this huh?"

"Nowhere."

"Stop. Lying. Is it the tape? The man from the computer?"

"I want to talk to Abby," she repeated, getting up from the floor.

"No, you're not going to talk to Abby, you're going to talk to me. Where's this coming from?"

"Nowhere," she yelled, shrinking back when Garrett caught her arm in a firm group.

"Did Daddy tell you this?"

"Daddy didn't say anything about you!"

"Stop. Lying!"

"Daddy hated you, just like I do!"

Garrett dropped her arm. Getting to his feet, he eventually succeeded in making his vocal chords work. "That's great, that's really great."

Crossing to the door, Garrett pulled it open to find Abby sitting on the stairs nearby. "Speak of the devil," he muttered.

Getting to her feet, Abby gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Elektra told me to stay in my room."

"So of course you're out here."

"Basically."

"Rachel wants you."

"I heard. Actually I think most of the state heard." Lowering her voice, Abby gave him a tight half-smile. "Don't freak out."

"Uh huh."

"She didn't mean it."

"Uh huh."

"Seriously, I've said that to Elektra a million times."

"Uh huh."

"She's just upset. _Everybody's _upset."

Garrett shook his head. "This isn't her, not even close."

Frowning, Abby noticed the thin sheen of sweat on Garrett's pale skin. "You look like crap."

"Tact, not your strong point is it?"

Nodding to Rachel's half-open door, Abby quirked a brow. "Should I be taking sensitivity lessons from you?"

"Were you always this pleasant or is that Elektra's influence?"

'Combination of both," Abby replied, heading past him into Rachel's room.

Watching the door close behind her, Garrett debated with himself, trying to ignore a building tightness in his chest. "Fuck," he mumbled, reluctantly deciding that Elektra could wait five more minutes.

Entering his own room, Garrett locked the door, and crouched to the floor by his bed. Pulling a large black chest from under the bed, he threw it open and began rummaging through the contents. Soon enough, the floor was covered with guns and porn magazines. Garrett found Chastity's gift at the same moment his phone started to buzz.

"Christ," he groaned. Will alone kept his shaky fingers from dropping the phone. "Pierce's Pizza Palace, if we don't deliver in twenty minutes you still have to pay. No. No, I told you not to call this number. Yeah, yeah I know. I _know _what the situation is, thank you. Did you do what I said? With Nelson. Yeah. Yes, I know you don't take orders from me. Fine. _Fine_. I was just about to. Good, I'll be in touch."

Hanging up the phone, Garrett studied the small case he'd gotten at the diner. Cursing softly, he shoved the case and everything else back into the trunk, finally pushing that back to its original spot.

Two minutes later, he sat in the larger of two bathrooms, downing the last of his pills. He hadn't eaten all day and felt no better after he'd emptied his stomach into the toilet. Wiping his face on a washcloth, Garrett used mouthwash to handle the bad taste in his mouth, ultimately forcing himself to head downstairs.

* * *

A minute, he'd said. A minute to clear his head, get things straight. After twenty of these, Elektra had finally decided that time was up. He hadn't gone far this time, she found him sitting on the pier where the girls had fooled around earlier. Again she approached with caution, unsure what sort of welcome she would receive.

"I missed you," he stated.

"I'm not the one who left," Elektra replied.

"Not this time, no," he answered, a tinge of bitterness seeping through.

Elektra froze a few feet behind him. Apparently she'd be dealing with Mr. Hyde tonight.

Grimacing, Matt twisted around so he was looking in her direction. "Sorry." Hesitantly, he held his hand to open air, waiting, hoping.

The reminder of her five year absence stung, but not as much as it used to. She'd gotten used to it during those months after his return, used to the anger and the barbs and the moods. Sighing, she accepted the hand, letting herself be pulled down next to him.

"I keep thinking it's better, that _I'm _better, and then..."

"Elektra said nothing. Was she a bad person for being exhausted, for having no concept of what to say?

"Elektra?"

"What?" she asked, tiredly, pulling free of the arm he'd draped across her good shoulder. "I don't know what you want."

"Then why are you out here?" he asked softly. "Why come after me, why stay?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to."

"I want to hear it," he demanded. "I need to."

Elektra said nothing for the longest time. She'd thought he was better too, foolishly believed she'd never see this part of him again. "I love you," she declared, but it sounded flat and unconvincing.

She meant it though, and he knew that, and that had to be enough. He kissed her then, and she responded out of instinct. It was slow and tender and he pulled away after a few seconds, resting his forehead against hers. "I'll never hurt you again," he murmured. "No matter what."

Her response should've been equally passionate, equally loving, but she couldn't muster it. There was an undercurrent in the way he spoke those words, one that Elektra couldn't describe. Not being able to describe it meant she didn't like it. Matt had said and done too many things she couldn't describe after he returned. "You still want me to-?"

"Take them somewhere else. Not for long, just until I can…until…"

Elektra nodded. She didn't care whether he saw her or not. There was a plea in her voice when she next spoke. "You coming in?"

"Not yet. Soon." Kissing one of her eyelids, he did the same to its twin, moving to the bridge of her nose, then finally hitting her lips again.

Slow and tender soon became desperate and demanding and Elektra wound up pushing him away as carefully as possible.

Matt snapped out of it, suddenly realizing how much he was pushing, that E's jacket was halfway off and that he'd rapidly been moving lower. There were marks where his fingers had been "Jesus," he muttered, nearly falling off the pier in his haste to get away from her. "Sonuvavitch."

"Matt-"

"Don't stay here; I know that's what you want. Don't do it."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"I can handle it."

"Like you handled it before?" she asked sharply, gripping his hands to keep him from bolting.

"Like I _always _handle it," he replied, pulling his fingers loose. "Go inside."

"Matt."

"Go inside, you're shivering. I just need a few minutes."

"One."

"Three."

"Fine," Elektra conceded grudgingly. It was exhausting, constantly keeping her guard around him. Him, the one person she shouldn't have to do that with. Getting to her feet, the former assassin made it to the end of the short pier before his voice stopped her progress.

"E, you can leave Garrett here. Take the girls to a motel or something."

"And leave Garrett here."

"Would it bother you that much if I accidentally killed him?"

* * *

No, she decided, it wouldn't.

"You're drunk."

"Not really," Garrett argued, slurring noticeably.

Crossing the living room, Elektra snatched his glass from the coffee table, frowning at the odd smell and consistency of the liquid. "What is this?"

"A glass."

Elektra slammed it down in front of him with enough force to create tiny cracks in the bottom

"You broke my glass," Garrett observed sadly.

"You're unbelievable."

"You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that," Garrett replied suggestively.

"What did you take?"

"Other than Cassie Allan's virginity?"

"Your niece is upstairs."

Struggling to remain upright on the couch, Garrett stared at her with glazed, vacant eyes. "You know how I know that I'm not drunk? You're nagging bugs me. I can't be drunk anyway, we don't have any booze. We should get some, you twenty-one yet?"

"No. What are you drinking?"

"Nothing now that you broke my damn glass. That's a song you know."

She was going to kill him, she really was. "What's a song, Garrett?"

"The Flintstones song. That's what I drank."

"You drank the Flintstones song?"

"No, I drank the Flintstones vitamins. Crushed them up with the Vicodin you never take and the mouthwash in the bathroom."

"You drank children's vitamins with pain pills and mouthwash?"

"And cooking sherry."

Reaching across the table separating them, Elektra slapped him in the face. Twice.

Garrett blinked several times, rotated his head in a circle, and touched the imprint of Elektra's hand on his face. "You hit me," he said, voice mostly back to normal.

"I hit you."

"Huh. Thanks."

"How much did you drink?"

"I don't need my stomach pumped. Most of it was cooking sherry." He didn't mention that he'd be puking it up soon anyway.

"You look like hell."

"Right back at you," Garrett replied. She didn't have his pale skin or twitchy muscles, but E did look immeasurably tired, older somehow.

"You talk to Rachel?"

Garrett stared at his hands. "She hates me."

"Her father just died and you're the one taking care of her."

"So it's her duty to hate me now?"

"Yes.," Elektra confirmed, dropping onto an arm of one of the chairs.

"And now I don't want to drink at all. What happened with your better half?"

"What happened with Rachel?"

"Rachel hates me. Jimmy hated me. That's as far as my knowledge goes. Your turn."

Oh God. Elektra had no desire to talk about this with anyone, least of all Garrett. "What do you know already?"

"I know he was supposed to be dead, I know he wasn't, I know the Hand mind-fucked him."

"Stick tell you that?"

"Word gets around, E, for those of us who care to keep up."

"What else?"

The hitman shrugged impatiently. "He played some games for the other team, he attacked you," Garrett continued, eyes darkening. "Stick fixed him; you all lived happily ever after. That's obviously not the case, so how about telling me why your boyfriend tried to strangle me."

"He didn't try to strangle you."

"You're being fastidious."

"Listen, I'm going to tell you this one time so don't interrupt. Don't be clever or glib because I don't have the patience for it."

"All right. Now talk to me."

He sounded entirely too kind, too sincere. Elektra didn't like it. "Stick didn't 'fix him,' not the way you think." Not the way she'd so desperately hoped he would."Do you remember Caleb?"

Garrett frowned, searching his memory for the name and face. "Caleb. Worked under the old man, thought Ethan was dog shit. I didn't hate Caleb."

"Neither did Stick."

"And?"

"Stick had him killed, three years after we left."

Eyebrows jumping to his hairline, Garrett leaned forward on the couch. "What?"

"The Hand did to him what they did to Matt. He was killing Stick's men left and right, Stick had him killed."

"Killed. But Matt-"

"Stick helped Matt because of me."

"Since when were you and the old man knocking down doors to do favors for each other?"

Consciously trying not to snap at him, Elektra made herself go on. "It doesn't matter. Stick told me later that it shouldn't have worked. Whatever he did to help him shouldn't have worked."

"And you have no idea what that was?" Garrett asked, unable to believe that Elektra wouldn't know every detail of her boyfriend's recovery.

"It was a bad time."

"Obviously."

"Garrett."

"I'm not being glib, E; I'm waiting for you to tell me something I should care about." He hadn't meant to sound harsh, but he wanted to know about Rachel, his brother, something that would explain the joke everyone else seemed to be in on.

"The man on that tape is the one who brainwashed him."

"I know-"

"No, you don't. Apparently his voice has some kind of hypnotic ability after you hear it long enough."

"And that's what they used? Some extreme form of hypnosis?"

"Among other things?"

"Like?"

Elektra looked away. "They beat him. I don't know any more than that."

Garrett was surprised by this. "He hasn't told you?"

"No," Elektra replied defensively, "he hasn't told me." Not one word, not after almost a year. "Stick couldn't just erase everything they'd done. He helped, but-"

"But the old programming is still there," Garrett finished.

Elektra nodded minutely, despite the fact that she hated that word. Programming. As if he'd been reduced to a simple killing machine.

"So he fights it. Every day, all day?"

"It's gotten easier."

"Elektra."

"Yes, he fights it."

"And hearing that man again flicked a switch somewhere, brought it all back?" He decided to take her silence as agreement. "Goddammit, Elektra!"

"Don't start."

"Don't start? Don't start what? You failed to tell me that Murdock was a time bomb waiting to barbecue anyone within range!"

He stood up then, tottering unsteadily. Elektra rose as well, daring him to take this further. "You're making it sound worse than it is."

"Is that why he's outside? That why you told Abby to lock herself away from him?" Then something occurred to Garrett, something in what Elektra said. Or hadn't said. "Did he hurt you?"

Elektra tried not to flinch. "At the apartment, he broke in-"

"No," Garrett said forcefully. "After that, during your 'bad time.' He never lost control while he was learning to deal with this?"

"That's not your business."

"Can you stop the bullshit and give me a straight answer one time out of your life?"

"No. He never hurt me."

"Abby?"

"You honestly think I'd let anyone hurt Abby?"

Garrett almost relaxed at that. Then his eyes narrowed again. "Did he try to?"

"Garrett-"

"Answer the damn question."

"I don't owe you anything."

"God! He pulled that on you. He lost it like he did on the porch."

"Has it occurred to you that he can hear every word you're saying?"

"It's occurred to me that I don't give a rat's ass," the hitman growled, stalking murderously towards the back door.

"What do you think you're going to do?"

"I'm going to blow his fucking brains out."

"Shelve the righteous indignation; I've had enough misplaced chivalry."

"Did he try stabbing you again, kill you in your sleep, what?"

"If you'd been through what he has-"

"Which was what? You don't even know! If anyone else did what he did-"

"He's _not _anyone else," Elektra replied coldly.

"I guess not. If I'd tried-"

"You're not him."

Hardly a revelation, but it still left Garrett with a dizzy sickness that had nothing to do with pills or alcohol. He froze in the middle of the kitchen, absorbing all the emotions behind those words. Then he went to the pantry, searching through it with maniac intensity. "No, guess I'm not. I'm not losing my _damn _mind, skulking around in the woods so I don't kill anyone."

"It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't-"

"So this is my fault. Good, we'll just go with that."

Elektra grimaced. "No. No."

"Well that's great," Garrett muttered. "My stupid, asshole brother was working with the evilest group of people known to man. And, apparently he dragged his little girl along for the ride. That's just _fucking _great."

Thrown by the subject change, Elektra was grateful nonetheless. Matt's capture and what happened because of it wasn't a sore spot. It was gaping, bleeding wound. "Last year, I buried a shapeshifter under Matt's headstone."

Garrett faced her again, fumbling to the kitchen table with a fresh bottle of cooking sherry in hand. "That doesn't make sense. Jimmy was the only person who'd have reason to protect her. If he was already dead, whoever wanted Rachel wouldn't have to play chameleon."

Elektra slid the bottle from his hands, reluctant to voice the other possibility. "Matt wasn't dead when the Hand had him replaced."

Leaning his chair back on two legs, Garrett favored her with a look of total melancholy. "When you buried him, did you feel it? In your gut, did you feel like he was gone?"

No, she admitted, not even remotely. She'd visited that cemetery many times, searching for any kind of closure. None came. Five torturous months she'd spent, aiming to pick up the pieces of her life. She hadn't, because she couldn't, because some part of her always knew. It was corny and cliché and everything in between, but she loved Matt, she would've known if he ever really left her.

Again, Garrett took silence as an answer. "That's what I thought. Jimmy's gone, there's no disputing that."

Elektra didn't know what to say. She watched him trying to open the sherry, hampered by the trembling in his hands. Conceding defeat, Garrett rested his elbows on the table, staring numbly at a spot on the wall. "Did I ever tell you about Jimmy telling me about Rachel?"

It took a few seconds to decipher the sentence and its meaning. Garrett had a remarkable ability to force himself sober long enough to do whatever had to be done. Once a job was over, he'd allow himself to feel the effects of whatever he'd put into his body. Judging by his speech patterns, Elektra figured he'd given up on staying lucid.

She should leave, let him pass out with his head on the table and wake in a puddle of his own saliva. Or at least remind him that she'd known nothing about his family tree until last week. "No, Garrett."

Garrett had just enough sense to realize that Elektra probably couldn't care less about anything he had to say. "I told him to get rid of her."

Elektra stood with arms crossed, waiting for elaboration.

"I told him to pay for an abortion." Mouth curving into a derisive sneer, Garrett scratched his fingers along the wooden table. "What would've happened then? If the all-powerful Treasure died before she was born? Think the world would stop spinning? Hey…?"

Garrett squinted up at Elektra, features marred in puzzlement.

"What?" Elektra asked, tone conveying indifference.

"You're giving me a weird look."

"Did you fall asleep before?"

"I don't remember Maybe."

"You have drool on your chin."

Garrett wiped his face, finding it dry. "Bitch. You're still giving me a weird look."

"Sorry."

"You don't sound it."

"That's your problem."

"True enough. Think I'd look good with a beard?"

"I don't know, Garrett."

"I had a mustache once."

"I'm happy for you."

"Happy that I had it or happy that I shaved it off?"

"You choose."

"Rachel told me to get rid of it."

Elektra had had enough. "You need to lie down."

"Rachel told me to get rid of it and I told Jimmy to get rid of her. And then I took off without…without bothering to…" Losing his train of thought, Garrett ignored the dizziness threatening to overtake him, never mind that he was sitting down. "If he did anything to her, it's my fault."

"No it's not."

Garrett coughed into his hand. "Could you be any less convincing? I mean if you tried, could you possibly be any less sincere?"

"It's not my job to give you motivational speeches."

"Why are you in here?" he asked suddenly. "Shouldn't you be patting Murdock on the head or something?"

"Shouldn't you be with Rachel?"

"No, because like Jimmy always said, I'm generally a failure as a human being, and the child seems to have caught on to that"

"Generally a failure?"

"You're too kind. I make good ravioli. Jimmy sold a gun shipment to this war-torn, piece of shit country, got enough money to buy a Corvette. He drives straight to my place, demanding I make him fucking celebration ravioli. Like I'm a fucking personal chef."

"So did you?" Elektra asked, though she couldn't have cared less about the answer.

"Technically, but only because I was hungry too. Then I stole his keys and crashed the car into a guardrail."

"Brotherly love?"

He looked at her then, for the first time in awhile. "You're not the only one with a fucked up childhood, Elektra. Why the hell are you in here anyway? Shouldn't you be patting Murdock on the head or something?"

Elektra couldn't gauge how coherent he was by this point. He might have simply forgotten that he'd already asked that question. More likely, he was looking for ways to get under her skin. She left him alone, unwilling to be goaded further.

She should be with Matt; she should be helping him, or at least making the effort. The problem was that she'd never really understood how his mind worked now, or how to help him. Or why, until much too recently, he'd plead for that help one minute and shun it the next.

"_You saved my life."_

He'd said that to her quite a few times, but she'd never bought into it. Stick was the one who'd done everything, using everything he had to bring Matt as close as he could be to normal.

Stick was dead now. Or hiding, conducting one of his epic, convoluted plans. Elektra thought, hoped it was the latter. Probably, he was biding his time somewhere, watching their little group grope around endlessly, amused by their inability to catch on to whatever game he was playing. Elektra hoped that was the case, since it would give her the chance to disembowel him when next they met.

She hoped that was the case because Stick shouldn't be able to die, not when he was the last semblance of a father figure she had.

And not when he knew more about the person Matt had become than she did.

* * *

Three minutes, he'd said. He'd lied, the same way he lied about a lot of things.

_It was a nightmare, nothing to worry about._

_I'm fine, promise._

_I'll never hurt you again. No matter what._

Shaking his head, Matt focused on the ache in his arms, the sweat rolling off him. Garrett had some exercise equipment in one of the spare rooms, but Matt had no plans to use any of it.

Garrett.

Garrett pissed him off.

Arrogant bastard represented the taboo, the part of Elektra's life, of her soul, that neither of them talked about. He was in there right now, trying to turn E against him.

And E was in there with him, entirely apathetic to what he, Matt, was going through.

"_She doesn't love you, you know that. She's twisted and broken and she returned to you because there was nothing left for her. You're the last resort."_

"Dammit," Matt swore, completing his two-hundredth pull-up.

These weren't his thoughts; he shouldn't have thoughts that weren't his. Except that wasn't what Stick said. Stick said that everything he'd been told held a grain of truth; in his own mind at least

"_The things they say, you think they're pulled from thin air? The Hand takes what darkness is already there and feeds on it, turning your thoughts against you."_

The Hand takes darkness that is already there. So what did that mean for someone who'd been shrouded in darkness, literal and figurative, since the age of twelve?

"_Use your aggressive feelings boy; let the hate flow through you."_

Matt knew he was fighting a losing battle. Star Wars quotes had no business mixing with everything else that was currently assaulting his brain.

Elektra hated that franchise. Abby knew this, pretending to love the films. A small, benign way of torturing the older woman by watching them every chance she got.

Abby, who'd once called him a weak coward. She'd told him afterward that she hadn't meant it. She'd been harsh, mocking, to galvanize him out of self-pity, get him fighting again. As if she knew anything about fighting, about what he tried to do. He'd done everything possible to stop from hurting an ungrateful girl who resented him for being with Elektra, for taking the place of her dead father.

Doing pull-ups from a tree branch wearing jeans and a sweatshirt was not fun. Still, exercise helped sometimes, when he felt his control starting to slip. Exercise helped sometimes, but not tonight. He couldn't organize, couldn't string his thoughts into something logical.

Couldn't decipher which thought were his and which came from the Hand. Not-so-dormant landmines in his psyche, waiting to destroy him.

His hands bled from the bark cutting into them.

"_What have you done, Matthew?"_

"_Fuck you."_

"_He cut his wrists, Master."_

"_I can see that. How did you acquire a blade, Matthew?"_

_Through his captors' stupidity. Someone had left it on the floor, after last night's session. "Gift shop."_

"_Have you given up already, Matthew?"_

_No. Maybe. He could feel the change, feel himself slipping away. He couldn't hurt Abby and Elektra if he was dead. Too bad the blade wasn't bigger, sharper._

"Why the hell are you in here anyway? Shouldn't you be patting Murdock on the head or something?"

She was still in there with him, listening to his lies. Pierce wanted her for himself, that's why he kept telling Elektra about the crazy, terrible man she was with. And she listened to it.

Not surprising really. After all, hadn't she been screwing that hired killer while he, Matt, mourned for her, chased after her in the vein hope of finding her alive? In the vein hope she actually gave a damn about him and his love for her.

Elektra was in there with Pierce. Pierce, whose brother worked for the Hand. It was his fault this whole thing had started, his file, his brother.

Dropping from the tree branch, Matt abandoned the exercise, tilting his head sideways. A new idea struck him, one that couldn't be ignored.

Pierce, Garrett, shot Elektra. He shot her so he could save her so that he'd come off as the gallant rescuer. He was in on it. He and his brother and the Hand.

"No."

No. This was ridiculous. Lunatic paranoia that had no basis in reality. He was better than this, stronger than this.

But Garrett still irritated him. As did Elektra. He'd told her to leave and what was she doing? Chatting up her drunken ex. He'd told her to leave. Just like he'd told her to run away from Bullseye all those years ago. Couldn't she do what he told her to do just one fucking time?

"_I'll never hurt you again. No matter what."_

He couldn't lie to her about that, he had to focus. He loved her.

Even if she didn't care, didn't understand what he'd done for her.

Goddammit! This wasn't right, he was better than this. He'd beaten them and their mind games before, he'd do it again. He'd never hurt any of them again.

No matter what it took, he'd never do that again.

* * *

"I used to have one of these," Abby said brightly. Turning the doll in her hands, Abby mustered a fake smile for the girl in front of her.

Sitting on the adult-sized bed with her chin on her knees, Rachel tilted her head quizzically. "You don't seem like a doll person."

"I was five," Abby replied, dropping the toy to the floor.

Rachel watched her with guarded eyes, though she had relaxed to some degree. Abby wouldn't push like her uncle did. Abby wasn't scary. Abby wasn't holding a gun on her and saying things about Daddy. "Do Matt and Elektra love each other?"

"As far as I know," Abby joked.

"How come they never got married?"

"Matt's a lawyer and Elektra didn't want to sign a pre-nup?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Hesitating momentarily, Rachel voiced her next question in a careful monotone. "Matt wouldn't hurt anyone right?"

Abby flinched, but not enough for Rachel to see. "Why ask that?"

"Don't know," the girl answered, averting her gaze to the bedspread.

"Look," Abby said softly. "Matt…some people did some things to him awhile back."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And…and Garrett, all of us, we all think that maybe the same people who hurt Matt-"

"Nobody did anything to me," Rachel interrupted. "I already said that!"

"Okay," the teen replied, holding up her hands in apology.

"I thought you'd be nice. Uncle Garrett yelled at me already and I already told him-!"

"Hey," Abby cut in, leaning forward on the bed. "I'm sorry. I get what it's like when people bug you about things you don't want to talk about."

Rachel nodded, small shoulders slumping pitifully. "Abby?"

"Rachel."

"Does Elektra like me?"

Feeling her eyebrows reach her hairline, Abby answered with surprise. "Yeah, why wouldn't she?"

The blonde shrugged. "She doesn't seem like a people person."

Abby bit the inside of her cheek, but a laugh still got through. No point arguing that one. "Okay, so she likes you as much as a paranoid, people-phobic person can like someone. Why?"

"Don't know," was the soft reply.

Rolling her eyes playfully, Abby persisted. "I think you used up your supply of lifelines for the night."

Shifting restlessly, Rachel stared at Abby with a new intensity. "I don't have anybody else."

Abby felt her stomach twist. "What, like family? I get that too, but Garrett-"

"What if Uncle Garrett doesn't want me?"

Moving so she was next to the girl, Abby put a comforting arm over her shoulder. "If he didn't want you, you wouldn't be here. Just because you guys had an argument-"

"What if he dies?" Rachel asked, the edge of panic in her voice. "What if something happens to him?"

"Rachel-"

"If he wasn't there, could I stay with you guys? If there wasn't anyone else, would Elektra let me stay with you?"

"Rachel, nothing is going to happen to Garrett. I know things are…messed up right now, but it'll get better."

Rachel didn't give a response.

* * *

The apartment door opened soundlessly. The woman who'd picked the lock slipped gracefully inside, relocking the door behind her. Unsure why she was being tasked with this, the woman took a seat nonetheless, settling on the couch to wait. Her target would be home soon enough.

* * *

The quiet knock caused Abby to look towards the door before glancing at the kid on the bed. Confirming that Rachel was still asleep, Abby went to the bedroom door, a smirk playing on her lips. "Password?"

"Abby," her mentor replied, sounding rather exasperated.

"Nope, wrong password.

The knob rattled. "Three seconds before I break it down."

Sighing, Abby pulled the door wide, stepping back so Elektra could get in. "Password was swordfish, but your way works too."

Noting the sleeping child, Elektra lowered her voice slightly. "I told you to go to your room."

"Originally, but then you told me to go to _a _room. Room," Abby gestured expansively, sliding to the floor and resting her back on the side of the bed. "You okay?"

Ignoring the question, Elektra suggested they take this somewhere a little more private. Much to her mentor's surprise, Abby fidgeted uncomfortably, red rising into her cheeks. "Can't."

"Can't?" Elektra mimicked.

"I…sort of promised that I'd hang out in here for the night."

The ghost of a smile on her lips, Elektra dropped to the floor as well, sitting Indian style in front of her protégé. Silence reigned for a few minutes, Abby mindlessly rubbing at the scar on her palm. "You never answered my question," she said finally.

The billionaire's daughter remained stoic.

"Are you okay?" Abby pressed.

"Are you?"

"You already asked that tonight. Is Matt…?"

"He's getting better."

Abby chose to let it drop. "Garrett?"

"Couch."

"Conscious?"

Elektra shook her head. If Garrett were awake and half-coherent, she would've made him drive off with the girls in tow. As it was, she had no intention of leaving Matt alone. He'd come inside a short while ago, flashed a strained half-grin, then expressed the need for a shower. Time alone and physical exertion seemed to have improved things. Kissing her on the forehead, he'd assured Elektra that Dr. Jekyll was back (for the most part) before sealing himself in the first floor bathroom.

Despite these assurances, Elektra was edgy, a feeling that only increased when she saw Abby rubbing at the spot where Matt's blade went through her palm. Maybe she should give Abby the car keys, stick Rachel in the back, and hope the teen didn't antagonize any traffic cops on her way into town.

"You're zoning," Abby stated.

Elektra blinked. It wasn't the time to forget her surroundings "You sound happy about this."

Abby shrugged. "It's fun to catch you off guard sometimes, doesn't happen enough."

"That's one opinion."

More silence. "So, stupid question. A kid Rachel's age, you think it's possible for them to use Kimagure?" Seeing the confusion on her mentor's face, Abby rushed to explain herself. "Just something she said earlier. She kept talking about Garrett dying."

"After what happened to her this week..."

"No, I know it's probably just her freaking out, but the way she said it…it was just _off_."

Elektra decided not to point out that, more likely than not, Rachel had undergone some form of psychological conditioning and that it wouldn't be surprising if some of what the girl said was _off_.

"I mean, I get flashes left and right, usually when I'm not even trying. And she's the Treasure too, so isn't it possible-?"

"It's not an exact science," Elektra snapped, thinking of Abby bleeding to death in front of a motel.

"Okay then," Abby replied cautiously, surprised by the venom in her friend's voice. Then again, E was under a bit of stress. Deciding that a change of topic was in order, Abby let her mouth curve into a mischievous smile. "Rachel says you're not much of a people person."

Joy, the next great weapon in the war between good and evil possessed rudimentary observational skills.

As quickly as it came, Abby's smile faded. Frowning, Elektra noted the wishful glint in the teenager's eyes. "You're zoning."

Abby made a face. "You have no idea how weird that sounds coming from you."

"Still."

Releasing a barely audible sigh, Abby occupied herself with an imaginary piece of lint on her jeans. "Mom and Dad wanted another kid. I think so anyway, but I probably imagined it. It was a million years ago, before all the Treasure stuff. I was younger than Rachel and I swear I heard them talking about it.

Elektra swallowed hard, totally lost for what to say.

Abby laughed. It was hollow and bitter and it made the older woman want to scream."Thank God that didn't happen right? Like I wasn't enough trouble."

"Abby," Elektra began.

"I'm not depressed, I'm just relating a childhood anecdote," the teen interrupted, forcing her eyes up.

"As long as you're not hinting at anything," Elektra smirked. Abby wanted her to drop it and, for lack of a better strategy, she did.

"That would be awesome," Abby declared.

Elektra gave her a look. "That's one opinion."

"What? You guys reproduce, you'd have an excuse to play Candy Land all the time."

Elektra stood up, attempting to look angry.

"What would happen if Matt changed a diaper? With that super smell sense thing you think he'd pass out from the fumes?"

"You're grounded."

"You can't ground me in a house that isn't yours. I bet I know what the kid's favorite color would be."

"Lock the door behind me."

"Fine, but you'd better have the password next time."

In spite of everything, in spite of all the turmoil, Elektra felt herself smile.

* * *

Matt waited until E was upstairs before leaving the bathroom. There was still blood where he'd cut his hands with the bark. Passing Garrett in the living room, Matt grimaced when the hitman decided to speak.

"Sorry I hit you," he apologized, dangerously close to rolling off the couch.

"No, you're not."

"Eh," Garrett replied, sleep reclaiming him before any more could be said.

Matt crept upstairs in silence. Pierce and Elektra had each hidden their weapons for Rachel's sake. But Abby had taken one of the guns this morning, using it for target practice in the woods.

"_Keep it," Garrett advised, rushing out the door for his meeting in Boston._

"_Garrett," Elektra tried to object._

"_She knows what she's doing E, you have to admit that sometime. Besides, maybe she'll give me a nice thank you for imparting my wisdom to the next generation."_

"_Right," Abby drawled. "So you want me to…?"_

"_You _could _clean the gun for me."_

The weapon was in Abby's nightstand. It hadn't been cleaned. Clicking off the safety, Matt checked the revolver, finding a full clip within. Sloppy, Abby really should've emptied this. Quiet as ever, Matt left the teenager's room, gun in hand.

* * *

Foggy Nelson entered his apartment carrying a bag of takeout and a twelve pack. After the week he'd had, he thought he was entitled to a little binge drinking. Switching the lights on, Foggy's mouth dropped open.

"Hello," the stranger on his couch greeted. "You might want to put that stuff down."

Numbly, before his mind could process his actions, Foggy dropped the food and beer on a small end table, gaping as he took in the attractive woman on his couch.

"Thank you," she said pleasantly, getting to her feet and moving towards him

"Who…what..?"

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," she murmured soothingly.

Foggy had time to see her pull the gun from somewhere on her waist, then his world went dark.

* * *

Roughly one-hundred miles away (odd that it would fall on the exact same moment) a shot rang out in Garrett Pierce's Connecticut vacation home.


	18. Chapter 18

Matt Murdock had hit rock bottom. He'd descended to a point so low, so subterranean, that continued life held no appeal for him. He'd felt this way before, many times in fact, but this was different.

Kneeling over the bloody pulp once known as Jack Murdock.

Listening to Elektra sob over her own father's body, knowing that he'd failed again.

Cradling Elektra's body against him, anger warring with grief as he realized the only woman he'd ever loved was gone, that he'd failed a third time.

He'd had low moments before, he'd even felt like dying before, but this was something else.

The so-called Man Without Fear was reduced to hiding in a bathroom, back to the wall and a gun to his temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger of another man's weapon.

Something else indeed.

Distantly, in the part of his mind still capable of rational thought, Matt knew this was a bad idea. Elektra had put up with a lot from him. Against her nature, she'd forgiven him for a lot of things, things he couldn't forgive himself for.

Elektra wouldn't forgive him this.

"_She doesn't love you, she can't. You did kill her father didn't you, Matthew?"_

"_No. I didn't."_

"_You may as well have. Isn't that right, Matthew? You didn't save him did you? You didn't save the boxer either. Did you, Matthew?"_

Matt pressed the gun harder against his skull.

She wouldn't forgive him if he hurt Abby again either. The fact that he was this weak, that a small bit of audio could send him this far back, that had to prove something. He wasn't safe, hadn't been for over a year. He'd simply convinced himself otherwise so that he could sleep at night.

"_I'm just tired, Matt. I am just so unbelievably tired."_

Yesterday, Elektra said that to him yesterday, after her breakdown in the rain. It didn't feel like yesterday, it felt much longer than that. Then again, his mind was a clouded, fractured mess at the moment, so maybe it _had _been longer.

Clouded, fractured mess. People with cloudy, fractured minds probably shouldn't be making life altering decisions. Like ending their lives.

But he was tired too. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending to be something he wasn't.

"_What have you done, Matthew?"_

_Slit his wrists, Master, that's what Matthew did. But why had he done that? He thought it was an act of defiance. He'd either get beaten to death in here (it'd nearly happened already. Twice in fact, when some of the guards became a tad overzealous), or lose his mind completely and be used as a puppet. _

_To hell with that. If he was going to die, he'd do it his way, on his terms. _

So the incident with the blade was an act of rebellion. Wasn't it? Or was that part of the plan too? Was it his captor's doing, part of the influence he was rapidly creating?

One arm resting against the bathtub while the other held the revolver, Matt suddenly realized that he didn't know. If he was going to kill himself, he'd do it because he wanted to, not because of some goddamn audio file he couldn't even understand.

It was the file, it had to be. He'd never get this low on his own, especially not with Abby and Elektra two rooms down.

But dammit was he tired. And dammit he still wanted things. Wanted to do things to Abby and Elektra and Garrett that he shouldn't want to do.

Elektra was tired too. He'd felt it, heard it in her voice when they spoke on the pier. She was tired of him. _He _was tired of him.

His finger twitched. More pressure, all he needed was a bit more pressure.

"_Put it down."_

"_Dad, I was just-"_

"_Put those down, Matty."_

_Eleven year-old Matt Murdock did as he was told, dropping the gloves on his father's weight bench. "Dad, I-"_

"_What did I tell you, Matt?"_

"_I was studying, but then-"_

_Jack shook his head, unwilling to hear it. "What did I tell you? What did you promise me to do?"_

"_Dad-" _

_Matt tasted blood. His father had struck him hard across the face. "What did you promise me, Matt?!?"_

Matt tasted blood. He'd bitten his tongue and it felt like he was swallowing copper. What had he promised Dad? Hell if he could remember. Something about not fighting. How had he justified that to himself?

Ah, now he remembered. Matt Murdock wasn't a fighter, but Daredevil was a different story. Matt was the lawyer his father wanted him to be, and Daredevil was completely separate from that, another person entirely.

Daredevil was gone. He hadn't been Daredevil for a long time.

Matt Murdock was gone. He hadn't been Matt Murdock in a very, very long time.

In the end, he was keeping his word. He wasn't fighting. Not anymore.

Matt played with the trigger again. He'd never fired one of these before and was surprised how hard one apparently had to squeeze to make something happen.

He hoped Garrett or Elektra came in first. Rachel and Abby were traumatized enough without seeing another dead body.

"_Put it down."_

_Matt grinned boyishly, dropping the phone into its cradle on the nightstand. Propping himself on an elbow, he ran lazy fingers along the side of Elektra's neck. "Morning."_

_E made a half-hearted attempt at nailing him with a pillow. "Who were you calling?" she murmured, still half-asleep._

"_Sorry, can't tell you that," he replied smugly._

_Cracking one eye, Elektra caught his roaming fingers, squeezing them tightly in her own. "Are you twenty, or twelve, Matt?"_

_Easing out of her vice-like grip, Matt lay on his side facing her, quickly touching his lips to hers. "God I hope it's twenty, otherwise you just committed statutory rape."_

"_Aren't you the romantic," Elektra deadpanned, her smile negating any sting the words may have had. "What time is it?"_

"_Just after 7:00," he answered softly._

_Groaning, Elektra hid her face against his shoulder. "How the hell are we going to get up today?"_

_Matt shrugged, reveling in the scent of her hair. His bed had smelled like her perfume for the better part of eight months now, and he couldn't be happier. "No one's rushing you out the door."_

"_Except Winters."_

_Matt's eyebrows went to his hairline. "Professor Winters? I thought you only did this with me?"_

_A pillow smacked his face. "His class starts at 8:00."_

"_Skip it."_

"_No."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because it excites me to hear him lecture on voting demographics," Elektra joked._

"_Wow," said Matt, fingers running absently over the blanket covering her naked body. "There's one I haven't heard before."_

_Smiling, Elektra traced a hand along his handsome features. "Seriously, who were you calling?"_

"_Seriously? Dr. Ayers."_

"_The romance continues. Why were you calling your eye specialist at 7:00 in the morning with me still in your bed?"_

"_Because I like having you in my bed, and I was going to leave him a message."_

_Elektra frowned in concern, though Matt couldn't see it. "What's the matter?"_

"_Nothing," he replied, running a hand over her cheekbone until she was forced to smile. "Absolutely nothing. I just hoped he might write me a doctor's note to get out of this thing tonight."_

_The pillow came at him again. Smirking, Matt caught her pseudo-weapon, initiating a playful wrestling match. Laughter filled the small dorm room until Elektra finally claimed victory. Straddling her very happy boyfriend, the brunette rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It's dinner, that's all."_

"_It's not the meal that concerns me," he countered, trailing experienced fingers over Elektra's sides._

"_It'll be fun."_

"_Fun?" Matt repeated incredulously. "He hates me!"_

"_Papa doesn't hate you."_

"_Not your father, Stavros."_

"_Oh," she replied, picturing the burly bodyguard. "Yeah, Stavros definitely hates you."_

"_You always know just what to say."_

_Smirking at his pouty look, Elektra raked gentle fingers over his chest. "Stavros hates _everyone_."_

"_Not your father."_

"_My father puts his kids through private school every year. It'll be fine."_

"_I have more trouble getting around your father's house than I do with this entire campus. Last time I got lost going to the dining room and the housekeeper yelled at me."_

"_Did you get dust anywhere? Because you know she hates that."_

"_You are a cruel, evil woman who takes pleasure in other people's misery."_

_Grinning, Elektra let him pull her down so she was resting half on top of him. "Love you, too."_

"_Do you love me enough to cancel dinner?"_

"_Not even close."_

_Sighing dramatically, Matt reached for the phone again. "Maybe Dr. Ayers got in early today."_

"_Put it down," Elektra chuckled, replacing the phone again as she pulled gently on Matt's arm._

"_I'll put it down if you stay five more minutes."_

"_I'll stay five more minutes if you put the phone down."_

"_Don't lawyer a lawyer, E, it's a losing battle."_

"_You're not a lawyer yet, Matt. And Winters is waiting."_

"_Fine," Matt relented, one hand still hovering over the phone._

"_Good," Elektra replied. "Now put that down, you're wasting your five minutes."_

Put it down. Put down the phone. Put down the gloves. Put down the gun.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Matt Murdock was a fighter, just like his father.

But he was still so angry, angry at everything and nothing. He was still tainted by the Hand.

Impossibly, Matt found that he hated himself even more. What was he thinking? What was he about to do? His father, Elektra, all of them. Was he really going to turn his back on them because of the Hand? Because of a goddamn computer file?

Elektra and Abby were two doors down. With Rachel.

Garrett was snoring noisily on the couch downstairs.

And he was in a bathroom with a gun to his head. How was it possible for him to be this screwed up after this much time?

Put it down.

"_What have you done, Matthew?"_

Put it down.

"_What did I tell you, Matt?"_

Put it down.

"_I'll never hurt you again. No matter what."_

Put it down.

"_I'm just tired, Matt. I am just so unbelievably tired."_

So was he. More than Elektra could ever understand.

Dad made him promise not to fight. Dad was a fighter. Daredevil was a fighter. Matt was a fighter. Or at least he had been.

"Put it down."

He was talking to himself. Again.

Elektra wouldn't forgive him. Dad was a fighter. Daredevil was a fighter. Daredevil was gone.

But Matt Murdock wasn't. Not tonight. Not yet.

The lawyer jumped to his feet with lightning speed, trying to ignore the pain in his head. The gun wasn't held there anymore, but his head still hurt.

What the hell was he trying to do?

Matt stood in the small bathroom facing a mirror he couldn't see. The gun was still in his hand, but his hand had dropped to his side.

Dammit, what the hell was he thinking?

Maybe he _wasn't _thinking. His head hurt too much for that.

It was a reflex, what he did next. Since he was twelve, Matt's whole existence was centered on one thing, clearing the noise. There was always too much noise and if he didn't find ways of clearing it he would lose his sanity.

Too much noise, always too much.

Matt raised the gun.

Elektra was with the girls when it happened. She'd gone back to talk to Abby, though the specifics of what she'd meant to say would be forever lost. Abby was opening the door for a second time when they heard it. The shot echoed loudly through the otherwise silent cabin. The teen jumped. Rachel woke in a panic, unaware that she'd fallen asleep. Elektra's blood ran cold.

Abby met her mentor's gaze for all of a millisecond. Brief as it was, Abby got the message, even as Elektra tore off down the hallway. Lock the door, watch the kid, stay out of it.

Garrett was up the stairs and at her side in roughly two seconds. Elektra wasn't surprised. She was half a step in front of him and felt rather than saw him draw the revolver. "What happened?" he barked, eyes clear and focused.

Elektra didn't reply. The bathroom door was closed and locked. She kicked it in without a thought. Garrett was the one to turn on the lights. "Oh my God," he breathed, feeling Elektra go rigid as they took in the scene.

* * *

His head hurt. That was all Foggy could think about, the only thing he could piece together. Forcing heavy eyelids to lift, the lawyer checked his surroundings in a kind of dazed bewilderment. He'd been propped upright, head resting against the window of a small plane.

Plane?

Foggy surveyed the cabin with wide eyes, quickly realizing that he was the lone passenger.

"Good, you're awake."

Or not. Strolling casually up the aisle, the tall blonde climbed over Foggy's feet, taking the seat across from him.

"You shot me," the lawyer mumbled. It felt like he'd been hit by a truck full of Jack Daniels.

His assailant (who seemed to be wearing a bit too much makeup) leaned comfortably in her seat. "So…Foggy? How did Franklin turn into Foggy? Why not Frank?"

Foggy blinked several times. "I'm sorry, can we go back to the part where you _shot _me? Who the hell are you? And where are we? If you think-"

"Relax," the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent cut in, sounding mildly annoyed. "Do you want me to tranq you again, because I have no problem with that." She pulled a small gun from somewhere on her belt, apparently feeling the need to demonstrate.

The lawyer shrank back automatically, gripping the armrest of his seat. "Look, I don't know what you want but…" He froze, pulling his eyes from the weapon up to her face. "Tranq?"

"Garrett so owes me for this," she muttered, setting the gun on her lap. "I shot you with a tranquilizer. You can tell because if it was a bullet, you'd be on a nice morgue slab right about now." She addressed him in the tone one would use when explaining nuclear physics to a small child.

"Stop gaping at me," she continued. "My ex-husband used to do that." Fortunately, Nelson didn't know about the bomb she'd placed under her husband's car. "Name's Chastity. Last name's classified for security reasons so please don't ask. If you do ask, or if you attempt to leave this aircraft, I will shoot you again. Are we clear on that?"

Foggy, who was equal parts terrified and disoriented, nodded weakly.

"Good, now pay attention. For the time being, you are under the protection of the U.S. government. Tomorrow morning, you will be in Paris. You will stay there until it's safe for you to come home." Or until she decided that Garret's debt was paid, whichever happened first.

"Protection…? Like witness protection?" Chastity was speaking way too fast, and the effects of the tranq dart had yet to dissipate.

"Have you witnessed any mob hits, Foggy? Turned state's evidence on your boss?" She didn't wait for an answer. "No, not like witness protection. If that were the case, you'd be moving to some backwater town in Missouri. Now much as you and I may hate this, it's my job to keep you off that morgue slab we discussed earlier so I suggest you do what I say. And right now I say you should bone up on your French."

Reaching under her seat, Chastity took hold of an English to French phrasebook, which she promptly thrust into Foggy's hands. Forcing his jaw closed, Foggy stared at her incredulously, wishing his mind would get back into focus. "Government. But if you're not-"

"We're an off the books division. And this isn't exactly a sanctioned operation. Peanuts?"

"What?"

"Would you like some peanuts? Water? Those darts can be nasty."

"Uh…no. Listen-"

"I know you're confused. You look very confused. A friend of mine believes you may be in danger."

"Friend? You mean Matt?"

"No. If I were you, I'd reevaluate your social circle, Foggy. There's a high probability that you'd have been killed if I hadn't gotten there first. Matt Murdock is a dangerous man to know."

"Wait, is he okay? What about Elektra? Who-"

"Please stop interrupting me, my ex-husband loved doing that. They're safe for now and that's all you need to know. Our records show that you were kidnapped several years ago."

Foggy shivered. The wacko with the branded forehead was still fresh in his mind.

Chastity kept talking. "My friend happens to think that Wilson Fisk planned to kill you, to bring Matt Murdock and his girlfriend out of hiding. I assume you wouldn't be happy if that were to happen."

Foggy stared at the woman, willing his mouth to stay closed. "No, I wouldn't be happy if I were to get killed."

"Just making sure we aren't wasting time here."

"Did Elektra send you?" he asked, thinking of the ninja bodyguards that had trailed E last year.

Mildly irritated, Chastity replied, "No, but we have a mutual friend."

"Elektra has friends?" Foggy asked before he could stop himself. The idea just seemed strange to him. Elektra had Matt and Abby, and then she had a handful of what she called contacts. 'Friend' wasn't a word he normally associated with her,

"Shocking isn't it?" Chastity replied. She'd never met the woman, but the fact that Garrett would go so far out of his way for her…Chastity had to dislike the former mercenary on principle alone.

"You…you said they were safe. What happened? I have to talk to them!"

"Later."

"But-"

"Foggy," she murmured, touching the gun in her lap. "I'm not getting paid for this. I could lose my job for this. I could rot in prison for this. You can talk to them later. Now I'm getting a drink. Would you like a drink?"

Foggy declined, trying hard to ignore the edge in this woman's voice.

"Peanuts?"

"Thanks anyway."

"Okay. But before I go, please tell me something."

"Sure," he said nervously.

"Your name. Do you actually enjoy that name? Foggy?"

"Um, I don't…I've never really…" Foggy trailed off. "Do you enjoy _your_ name?"

Her eyes narrowed. "My parents watched a lot of Sonny and Cher."

"Right," Foggy muttered. "You uh, you do know that-"

"I'm aware _Foggy, _that Chastity Bono is now Chaz Bono. Do you know who used to tease me about that?"

"Your ex-husband?" he replied quietly.

"Exactly. Do you know what happened to my ex-husband?"

"No."

The blonde with too much eye shadow nodded solemnly. "Do you want to find out?"

"Not particularly," Foggy answered, wondering if he was about to be killed.

She nodded again. Flashing a pleasant smile, Chastity stood up and moved towards the front of the plane. "I think we'll get along fine then. There are headphones over there if you feel like watching a movie. Let me know if you change your mind about the peanuts."

* * *

The house had been quiet before, but not like this. It was too damn quiet. It reminded Garrett of a funeral. The hitman was hunched over on the couch, head in his hands. Abby was in the recliner sitting opposite him. The teen was scratching relentlessly at her left palm, keeping her eyes down.

Sighing, Garrett got to his feet, walking the few steps to the unlit fireplace where his niece was sitting. Rachel's arms were wrapped around her knees and she kept glancing at Abby. She wanted to cry, but it wouldn't happen, not unless Abby released a few tears herself. But Abby was a kid trying to be an adult, and Garrett knew she wasn't about to lose control in front of him. Just like Elektra.

Dropping to one knee a few feet in front of the girl, Garrett spoke in a tired, even voice. "Hey, brat. You okay?"

Wide, sad eyes blinked at him.

Garrett looked at Abby. Abby looked at her hands. Silent spasms were ravaging her body.

"Rachel," he murmured, feeling sick and angry and depressed. "C'mere."

The girl looked at Abby. Abby looked at the floor, releasing a cough that was more a choked sob.

Garrett glanced at Abby, but couldn't hold the contact. He focused on Rachel because that was all he knew how to do at the moment. "Kid," he said softly, "help me out here."

Rachel took the short distance at a run, throwing her arms around his neck. Garrett stumbled under the weight, bent knee going out from under him. He sat on the floor, clutching his niece like a lifeline.

Abby watched this with a bizarre sort of envy, instantly berating herself for the feeling. Dad used to hug her like that. She'd never hugged Matt. That thought made her throat constrict and she swallowed hard to keep from crying.

Garrett turned his head sideways, seeing how hard she was fighting. Carefully, he pushed Rachel away from him, whispering close to her ear. "Stay here, watch TV. I'll be back in a minute."

Abby stood from her chair as he walked past, halting his movement. "Don't," she said flatly, wiping dry eyes. "I'll do it."

"You won't," he argued, throwing her the remote from the coffee table. "Watch TV."

"She's not going to want to see you."

"She never does."

"Just let me do it. I'm used to her like this."

There was no emotion there, just indescribable weariness. Garrett felt sicker. He supposed Abby would be used to this, having lived with Elektra during those months after Murdock's so-called death. The dark haired man touched her arm, trying to convey sympathy. Abby flinched. Not out of fear, but something much worse. Garrett let his arm fall, Abby's behavior strengthening his resolve. "It's not your job."

"More mine than yours," Abby countered.

She was right, but she was also a kid. Garrett hadn't really gotten that before, hadn't understood why E was so hesitant about the weapons. It wasn't that she couldn't handle them; it was that Elektra didn't want a kid firing a gun. She wanted Abby to be safe and happy without having to watch her back 24/7 the way they both did. It was sweet, E trying to protect her like that, something he wouldn't have thought her capable of, but they were way beyond that now. E was still trying to protect her, probably she always would, but Garrett didn't have that responsibility. Abby was a kid, but she was also an adult, even if she didn't deserve to be. He addressed her like an adult, because it was the best way he knew to get her to listen. "She's not going to want you seeing her like that. Not anymore."

"And she'll want that from you?"

Garrett clenched his teeth in frustration. "She cares less about what I see than she does you."

Abby scowled, but only for a moment. Shoulders dropping, she fell back into the chair, feeling like a failure because she didn't want the responsibility. Garrett was ill-equipped, but he was still giving her an out.

Garrett climbed the stairs slowly, the same way he had when they first got here, when his brother's death threatened to overtake him. Every door in the hallway was closed, but he knew instinctively where to go. "You shouldn't be in here," he said, opening the door to the bathroom.

Elektra was gripping the sink with both hands, watching their reflections in the mirror. Her face was as dead as Matt's had been.

She didn't answer and Garrett didn't step inside. Instead, he braced his arms against the doorframe, noticing for the first time how small the room was. A sink, a toilet, a bathtub, all too close to each other. It felt claustrophobic and Garrett found himself sympathizing with Murdock because of that. "You should come downstairs."

She ignored him, white knuckles clenching against dark green porcelain.

He stepped into the claustrophobic room, half-expecting Murdock to attack him for it. Nothing happened and Garrett knew in his heart that nothing was going to happen.

"Leave," Elektra demanded. Her voice was weak and hoarse and Garrett hated it. Was this what Abby meant? Was this what it had been like before?

"My house, E," he replied softly. "Can't kick a man out of his own house without a semi-good reason."

He was being flip to get a rise out of her, but it didn't seem to be working. "Leave," she repeated. "Take the girls with you."

"To where, a motel?"

Elektra flinched. "No, no motels."

Crossing his arms, Garrett feigned annoyance. "Rachel's seven."

Elektra stared at the wall directly beside the mirror.

Following her gaze, the hitman threw up his hands. "Its 11:30 at night, we're twenty miles from a town that shuts down by 6:00, and Rachel's seven years old. Where do you want me to take them?"

"I don't care, Garrett," she bit out.

"You want me to take them to a bar? Because there's not much in the way of options."

"I don't care if you go to the shooting range. Just leave."

"Without you. I'm not doing that."

"I wasn't asking."

"Neither was I. You aren't staying here by yourself."

"What do you want from me?" she asked, eyes still glued to the wall.

"I want you to start acting like a person. Abby's downstairs waiting for you. Or do you not care about that either?"

He expected her to spin around and attack him. That didn't happen. Her eyes darted from his image in the mirror to the wall right beside it. Garrett moved closer, invading the little space she had in this claustrophobic room. Steeling himself, he placed his mouth next to her ear, the same way he'd done with Rachel. "You're being pathetic," he whispered scathingly. "Get yourself together and do the job."

She'd said something very close to that after Jimmy died, when Garrett attacked Ethan. The hitman waited a split second, expecting hands on his neck or a blade in his stomach. Neither of those things happened. Elektra kept staring between the mirror and the wall and Garrett realized with startling clarity what she was going to do. Her hand shot up. Garrett snatched it away, pulling it behind her back. The other hand moved, intent on smashing the glass. Knowing that arm was already a mess, Garrett resisted the urge to treat it the same as its twin. One arm snaked around her waist as he physically yanked her back from the mirror that would've mangled her hand. The concoction of drugs, vitamins, and alcohol was still in his system, and it caused him to overbalance. He'd closed the door when he came in and now they were slamming into it, Garrett's back taking most of the impact.

"Stop it," he ordered, feeling her body shake against his. She wasn't crying, but she wasn't really fighting him either. That alone was enough to scare the living hell out of him.

"Goddamn you," she whispered. She wanted to hurt him, hurt him the way she was hurting, but that wasn't possible. Besides that, she knew on some level what he was doing and she didn't feel like playing into it.

Ignoring the comment, Garrett forced her around, alarmed by the lack of resistance he encountered. Pinning her hands against the wall, he spoke in her ear again, louder this time. "Stop it. Stick would have your ass for this."

"Stick's dead."

"Maybe," he conceded, pulling back to meet her eyes. "But you're not. And Abby's not. And Abby needs you downstairs." She shook her head and he squeezed her wrists hard, fingers running over the scars there. "Stop it. Look at me. She's fine, you're fine, he's fine."

Twisting her wrist, Elektra freed herself using a move he'd never bothered to master. The old Elektra reappeared full force and Garrett felt one of his teeth loosen as she hit him. Then he was falling backward, hitting the back of his head on the tub.

"Fine," Elektra mimicked. "Is that what he is?"

Sprawled on the floor with double vision and blood on his lips, Garrett blinked at her with stern eyes, daring her to contradict him. "He's alive, that's all anyone in this life can ask for. You know that."

A moment passed. Then another. Teetering unsteadily, Garrett rose from the floor, gingerly touching the back of his skull. Cranium intact, he proceeded to rip out his back tooth, tossing it carelessly into the dry tub.

Elektra let him do this, turning back to the wall with the mirror. "Sorry."

"Why do you apologize for things you're not sorry for?" Garrett asked, relieved to see that E seemed to have snapped out of it.

"Because this time I mean it," she replied coolly, eyes fixed on the bullet hole next to the mirror.

"Huh. Is it wrong that that scares me more than anything else that's happened here?"

"I still want you gone. All three of you."

Frowning, Garrett came to stand next to her. Partially to get her eyes off the hole and partially because he needed to lean on the sink to stay upright. "That's not going to happen."

"We need to talk. Alone."

"Elektra-"

"He won't do anything to me. Don't pretend you don't know that."

Garrett wasn't sure which part of this situation was most fucked up. They'd crashed into this room less than an hour ago to find Murdock holding a gun he'd stolen from Abby. Then he'd started talking, and he'd been normal. Mr. Elektra swore that he was okay again, dropping the weapon as if it burned. If that wasn't enough, Elektra believed him. She believed that somehow he'd managed to regain control. And if _that _wasn't enough, Garrett believed him too. As suddenly as Mr. Hyde had shown up, he was gone. He wasn't sure how it happened or how he knew, but Garrett understood that, for now at least, Murdock was back to being Murdock.

But that didn't mean he trusted the man. Not after tonight. "E-"

"I'm not interested in your opinion."

Things definitely seemed to be getting back to normal. Garrett watched her stare at the bullet hole; saw the emotions she was trying to bring under wraps. "We don't know what he was going to do," Garrett said quietly. His entire demeanor had changed as he made a painfully awkward attempt at comfort.

"Sure," Elektra replied in an equally low voice. They both knew it was essentially a lie.

Garrett sighed, part of him wishing that Abby were here instead. But Elektra wouldn't have wanted that, and just as he knew Murdock was no longer a threat, he knew that E was grateful that it'd been him instead of the teen. After all, she'd given a genuine apology for the first time in the seven years they'd known each other.

"He wasn't himself, Elektra."

"I know."

"I know you know. So this self-imposed exile, is that really what it is?"

Elektra didn't answer and Garrett blew air through his teeth. The muffled voices from Elektra's room had ceased fairly quickly, and then Murdock was outside again. He'd been standing near the boathouse last Garrett checked. At first he'd thought Murdock was hiding again, but he didn't think that anymore. Elektra was spent. So spent and pissed off that she couldn't even look at the blind man.

The sounds of children's cartoons came blaring from downstairs. Abby must've turned up the volume to drown out what was happening up here. "You should get downstairs; they'll think we're killing each other." Moving into the hallway, Garrett waited patiently, one eyebrow raised.

Elektra cast one more glance at the hole in the wall before joining him. "Thanks," she said, edging in front of him.

The hitman grunted in response. He didn't like it when E apologized and meant it, and he _really _didn't like when she thanked him and meant it. It was wrong, against the natural order of things, and it made him incredibly nervous.

* * *

Chastity McBryde was not a happy woman. If Garrett was going to call in favors, the least he could do was make them interesting. Breaking into buildings was interesting. Using her clearance to hack government databases was interesting. Shooting foreign government leaders had been fun, especially that time in Russia. However, babysitting a friend of her ex-partner's ex lover's current lover was in no way fun.

"All right," she drawled, sitting across from him once more. Her laptop was balanced on her knees as she read from five different windows on the screen. "Let's try it again. This time try not to do it wrong."

Glaring, the lawyer threw down the small book, clenching his hands together. "I said it. A lot. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Your accent's wrong, you sound too American."

"Really? Because living in New York my entire life, why would I possibly sound American?"

Stopping her perusal of Cosmopolitan's website, the blonde flashed an amused smile. "You're funny. I like funny."

"That's…great. You said I could talk to my friends soon."

Frowning, Chastity clicked on another file, maximizing the window. "I don't like impatience."

"I'm not being-"

She cut him off, snapping out a quick sentence in French.

"What did you say?"

"Look it up," she replied, gesturing towards the abandoned dictionary. Her frown deepened as she clicked on one of her S.H.I.L.D. files. Maybe it _was _time to contact Garrett.

* * *

Garrett shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a dick. Abby was hugging Elektra and it simply didn't look right. He got the feeling that neither of them were big on physical affection. Elektra had initiated the hug as soon as she made it downstairs and Garrett wasn't sure if she was comforting or trying to be comforted. Whatever the case, it didn't seem to be working.

It'd been awkward before, listening to Matt and Elektra argue. This was worse. To top it off, Garrett was still under the influence and having Elektra pinned to the door had reminded him of certain fantasies. Bad as it was, even though he'd never try acting on it, Garrett now had a vague urge to have sex with her. Then again, he'd had that same vague urge on and off for the last week, so he guessed it didn't matter all that much.

The embrace broke when Garrett's cell went off. He couldn't remember switching it off vibrate, but the phone was now entertaining them with Sonny and Cher's _I Got You Babe_. Rachel stared resolutely at the TV, Abby shook her head and moved towards the kitchen, and Elektra gave him a look that made him feel like even more of an asshole.

"Don't ask," Garrett muttered, flipping the phone open. "This isn't the best time. What? Yeah. No. This really isn't…hang on." Chewing on an already bruised lip, Garrett held the phone out to Elektra.

The brunette gave him another look. Abby, who'd been slicing an apple into extremely small pieces, stopped what she was doing. Rachel turned around on the floor, eyes still glassy.

"Are you joking?"

"Yeah, I'm in a really jokey mood," Garrett snapped, covering the receiver with his hand. "Go upstairs," he barked at the girls.

Rachel scrambled to her feet not wanting another fight with her uncle. Abby was another story. Already angry, the teenager tossed him an indignant glare. "You can't tell me-"

"Go upstairs," Elektra commanded. "Don't argue with me."

She wasn't speaking to him, but Garrett flinched anyway. Abby did as instructed. Oddly, she threw another glare at the back door as she left. Glancing out the window there, Garrett saw that Matt was lurking outside. A moment later, the door swung open.

Matt came in slowly. He made it to the kitchen table, then stopped moving. Abby, having made it to the bottom of the stairs, froze on the spot. "You're such an asshole," the teen declared.

"Abby!" Elektra snapped. She'd gone pale and she refused to look at Matt. "You're not helping."

"Not trying to," Abby retorted hotly. "You want me to finish the job for him?"

Elektra took hold of Abby's arm. Garrett was sure she was leaving bruises. "Get upstairs," said Elektra, voice deadly quiet.

Abby yanked her arm free, looking from Matt to Elektra with a murderous glare. "Whatever," she replied before jogging up to Rachel's room.

Leaving the house was becoming more and more appealing to Garrett. The man on the other line was speaking again and Garrett drew the phone back to his ear. "Hang the fuck on," he snapped.

"Why am I getting calls on your phone?" Elektra asked.

"It's Foggy," Matt said quietly.

Elektra met his gaze for the briefest of moments. She couldn't take the contact so she looked at Garrett. "What did you do?"

Garrett sneered in annoyance. "Kingpin doesn't just kill you; he kills your whole family. Remember that, E?"

Elektra went paler. Fisk never went after Foggy before, when Matt was gone. But he'd also been busy rebuilding his empire then. And Maya Lopez did try snatching Abby from school. Risking a glance in Matt's direction, she saw her own fears reflected in him.

"Yeah, I knew you remembered. Kingpin hates both of you, and I'm betting he wants you back in the city. Don't worry, I called in a favor. He'll be safe."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you do this?"

Garrett rolled his eyes. "Because sometimes I'm a sentimental idiot. Because you got shot and that shouldn't have happened and I'm trying to stop my karma from going any further down the toilet. Now take the damn phone before your friend has a heart attack."

Elektra took the phone. Now she couldn't bear to look at Garrett either so she turned her back on both men. "Foggy?"

"Oh God. Elektra, what the hell's going on? The FBI was watching me, they wanted me in jail for obstructing justice but the judge was an old friend so I got out on my own recognizance. And then there's some kind of riot at Ryker's-"

"How did you know about that?" Elektra asked.

"Ben Urich called. The warden's kept it out of the media but Urich's got a source in the jail. He said Matt-"

"Matt's here, he's with us. Where are you?"

"Thank God, we didn't know what happened to you and Abby after-"

"Foggy," Elektra cut in. The lawyer was close to panicking and she could hardly keep up. "Calm down. Where are you?"

"Right now? I'm locked in an airplane bathroom hiding from your crazy friend!"

Elektra stared at Garrett. Since Foggy was practically yelling, the hitman knew exactly what was being said. Shrugging, Garrett rubbed the bump forming on the back of his head. "Chastity gets excited sometimes."

"Chastity," Elektra repeated. "That's the contact you met in Boston?"

"Who are you talking to?" Foggy asked, checking to see that the door was still locked.

"Hang on," Elektra replied quickly. "You said you were meeting a man."

Garrett shrugged again. "That's no fun. And I lied."

"Why?"

"Elektra!"

Shaking her head, Elektra returned her attention to the phone. "Sorry."

"Right. And then I come home and get shot by this woman who says she knows you and that she works for the government and-"

"You were shot?" Elektra questioned sharply.

A somewhat muffled but distinctly female voice drifted across the line. "It was only a tranquilizer."

Foggy would've jumped if there was any room for it. "Dammit, can I have some privacy?"

"Not on my phone you can't."

"Foggy," Elektra yelled. "Who's with you?"

"How the hell do I know? Tall, blonde, attractive." He left out the part about too much makeup, not wanting to get tranqed again.

Elektra covered the receiver. "Friend of yours?"

"I told you, she owed me a favor," Garrett replied.

"You slept with her."

"Well yeah," Garrett replied, thinking it obvious. "But that's not why she owed me the favor."

"She's government?" Elektra pressed, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Yes," he said evenly. "Which is exactly why I didn't tell you about this. She's trustworthy."

In spite of the blocked receiver, Foggy still heard most of the exchange. "She shot me! Instead of just _explaining_ what-"

The door to the bathroom swung open. Chastity stood with her arms crossed wearing a look of slight annoyance. "It was a tranquilizer and I was in a hurry."

In Connecticut, Elektra stared at Garrett and Garrett shrugged a third time. "If she was in a hurry…"

Hearing Garrett's voice, Chastity snatched the phone back, an evil grin spreading over her face. "Is that the ninja skank fuck-buddy?" she asked loudly. "Tell her I said hi!"

"Jesus Christ," Garrett muttered, snatching the phone from Elektra and backing out of her reach. "Chastity," he growled. "Remember that saying about how if you don't have anything nice to say, you should shut your pretty little mouth hole?"

"Did you re-gift my present?"

"What?"

"The birthday present I gave you eight years ago, did you re-gift it?"

Eight years ago? He was smack in the middle of the worst time in his life, there was still cooking sherry and pills in his system, and Matt and Elektra both looked ready to kill him. And Chastity wanted to know about eight fucking years ago? "Birthday present. You mean the pen?"

"Not your birthday present to me. The Tokarev I bought you."

Garrett resisted the urge to puke. "Why are you asking?"

"Do you have it or not?"

"What the hell is a Tokarev?" Foggy yelled, too scared to try getting the phone back.

"I gave it to Jimmy," Garrett said flatly.

Silence on the other end. "I'll call you back," Chastity answered.

"No, hold on," Foggy protested. I have to talk to Matt."

"I'll call you back," she repeated.

The line went dead and Garrett stuffed the phone in his pocket, wiping sweat from his face. How was it that every woman he knew had such terrible phone manners?

"What was that?" Elektra asked.

"She came up with the ninja thing on her own. I uh, I gave her a pen on her birthday and she's been passively trying to kill me ever since."

Elektra didn't press the way he thought she would. She was looking at Matt and there was too much there for Garrett to define. Trying to convince her that Murdock hadn't attempted suicide was stupid. They'd both seen his face. Matt may have fired the gun out of frustration, but he'd taken it for one specific reason.

Elektra wanted the girls out of here, but this time it had nothing to do with danger. The way E was looking at him, Garrett was more worried about Matt's safety than anything else. And good God did he feel like a dick for being here. "Hey!" he shouted.

Abby appeared on the landing, Rachel close behind. "What?" the teen asked, giving Matt another dirty look.

"Get dressed, we're leaving."

"At midnight?"

"You're sixteen, you shouldn't care about curfews."

"This is bull-"

"Who wants ice cream?" Garrett asked brightly. "Rachel, feel like having some ice cream?"

"No," the child said quietly. "And the ice cream parlor's closed."

Cursing silently, Garrett rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Let me put it another way. Get dressed, we're going out."

"Abby too?"

"No," the teen replied.

"Yes," Elektra countered.

"Elektra-"

"Don't. Don't whine. Get dressed."

"Whatever," Abby muttered, the hint of tears in her eyes.

Ten minutes later they were leaving, Abby scowling at Matt as she walked out the door. "I can't believe you'd do that."

"You. Truck," Garrett ordered, pushing Abby onto the porch with Rachel. Then he leaned close to Matt so the girls wouldn't hear. "You do anything more stupid than what you've already tried, I will personally-"

"Garrett," Elektra snapped from her position on his other side.

"Just making sure he knows the score, E."

"What did I say about you and your chivalry?"

"My chivalry is probably the only reason your friend's not dead yet. We'll be back in a couple hours."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well at least I didn't take a month to update this time. You didn't think I'd kill Matt did you? That would be a terrible, evil thing that I'd never, ever do. Well except for that one time when I kind of killed him…but that doesn't count! Anyway, I'm aware that the very beginning of this chapter makes no sense whatsoever. That's because this chapter was supposed to be much longer but I didn't feel up to proofreading 40 pages worth of story. Anything that doesn't make sense now will be explained next time. I'd also like to apologize for the lack of Matt in this chapter. The next update will have lots of Matt/Elektra interaction (which I know we all love) so stay tuned for that. And thanks for all the great feedback you guys, please keep it up and let me know what you're thinking.

Finally, the scene with Matt in the bathroom was inspired by Kevin Smith's old but awesome run on the Daredevil comic. Specifically Daredevil Volume 2 #6. Thanks, Kevin for writing the best almost-suicide ever.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, welcome to another exciting update. This is a chapter that ended up somewhat different from what I first imagined, and I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it. I'd really appreciate feedback this time around, even from those who normally shy away from the little green button, lol. I'm moderately shocked that we've somehow passed the 100,000 word mark, since I have absolutely no idea how that happened. Hopefully you guys are still interested and continue sticking with me as this little odyssey continues.

For anyone who may not know, a spork is a spoon and a fork combined into one amazing utensil. Matt discusses certain false memories in the chapter that are basically my nod to DD and Elektra's comic book origins. There are a couple jokes involving neurosis and the color of Matt's costume, both of which I stole from Brian Michael Bendis. There's also a moment Elektra recalls involving Bullseye and a rather disgusting act. That little scene was edited out of the theatrical release, but was included in the Director's Cut of the film. I chose to pretend that it was part of the original movie, even though the Director's Cut is infinitely better, lol. Finally, there's a very brief, very vague mention of rape, so don't yell at me if you read beyond this point and get offended. Now that I'm done protecting myself from any flames and/or lawsuits, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed last time, because you guys rule at life. In conclusion, read, enjoy, and make me a very happy author by sending me some feedback.

* * *

"And we have no idea where he is?"

"We're…we're working on that, Mr. Fisk."

"You seem to _work _on quite a few things, Mr. Phillips, considering how little actually gets done."

"Yes, sir. But I guarantee you, Nelson will be located."

"Your guarantees are starting to mean less and less to me. What's our man at the FBI say?"

"Well sir, you see…Cromwell's been overridden. The Murdock case has been taken over by a higher-level department."

He'd suspected as much. There had to be a reason the arrest of a semi-prominent New York lawyer wasn't making the headlines. He'd been too busy to ask or care why, but obviously this higher-level department was exerting their influence and suppressing information. Fisk leaned back in his chair, massive hands resting on his desk. "Who?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D, sir. Black-ops law enforcement division, well-hidden. Information is extraordinarily difficult to come by. On paper they don't exist."

"Unless they're swooping in to steal cases from local authorities."

"Precisely, sir."

"Mr. Phillips, why would a highly classified division of the U.S. government be interested in a blind man from the Kitchen?"

"That's…that's the thing, Mr. Fisk. They're _not _interested in Murdock." Nervously, the assistant pulled a folder from behind his back, gingerly pushing it across his boss's desk. "You remember the accomplice, the one in the hospital tapes-?"

"I remember, Phillips," the bald man replied. Opening the folder, he found government documents on one Garrett Pierce. "I thought the name was John Graham."

"He's changed it periodically for the last eight years. They've been looking for him, and with his connection to the Murdock situation…you can see why they got involved. But there's something else you should be aware of."

"Yes?"

"Page six, Pierce's known relatives."

Flipping pages, Fisk experienced a rare shock of surprise. "Rachel Vance."

"Garrett Pierce's niece. And the father-"

"I understand, Phillips."

"Of course, sir, but there are a few other items related to-"

Holding his hand up, Fisk skimmed over various surveillance photos. Some showed Pierce and Elektra arriving separately at various hotels over a three year period. Others showed the two of them in more compromising positions in various stages of undress. He passed these quickly, already very familiar with the pictures. He stopped halfway through the folder, experiencing his second bit of surprise for the night. "Is this real?"

"It would appear so.," Phillips replied. He liked being the bearer of news that wouldn't put his life at risk.

Fisk chuckled deep in his throat. "That explains quite a few things."

"Indeed."

"This is perfect, absolutely perfect," Fisk declared. He laughed deep in his throat and Phillips shifted uncomfortably.

"You don't think they know?"

The ridiculousness of that notion sent Fisk into a new bout of laughter. "If Murdock or Elektra knew anything about this, Pierce's body would be next to his brother's."

"Could they find out?"

"If they do, he'll end up with a knife in his chest before too long."

* * *

"Bowling?"

Shrugging, Garrett locked the truck, felt for the gun under his jacket, and checked to make sure the black case was tucked in an inside pocket. "It's a small town."

Abby watched in disbelief as he grabbed Rachel's hand and walked the sleepy child towards the building. "After everything that happened tonight, you want me to-"

"I _want _you to suffer in silence like the rest of us. Rachel, you like bowling don't you?"

"No."

Sighing, Garrett stopped moving long enough to hoist Rachel onto his shoulders, hoping to elicit a giggle or two. Rachel simply held on, quietly reminding him not to drop her. "It'll be fun."

"You just told me to suffer in silence," Abby pointed out, lagging behind the other two,

"Emphasis on the part about silence," Garrett snapped.

"Bowling? Really? The night from hell and you want to fix it with _bowling_?"

"_Midnight _bowling. And watch your mouth."

"You don't watch yours," said Rachel."

"Shut up and enjoy the view," Garrett replied.

"Bowling, that'll make everything better."

"_Midnight _bowling."

"Yeah," the teen grumbled. "So other than the fact that it takes place at midnight, is there an actual difference?"

He would've shrugged if not for Rachel. "You've never been?"

"Thankfully. Have you?"

"First time for everything."

They soon discovered that the only difference between midnight and non-midnight bowling was that the former involved an excessive amount of flashing neon lights. The man behind the counter seemed vaguely alarmed by their presence, commenting that he didn't usually get this many customers.

"Not a lot of night owls around here?" Garrett asked, taking hold of a rather filthy pair of bowling shoes.

"Oh, I don't mean just this time of night. People just don't seem much into the sport anymore. Still, I built this place with my bare hands so you can bet I'm sticking with it."

"Good for you," Abby mumbled, holding her own shoes at arm's length and trying to block out the odor. "Are you a mutant or something?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, building this whole place with your bare hands, that's a pretty big-"

"Abby," Garrett cut in. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

"Fine, why don't you give me some money?"

What had happened to the gun Murdock tried to off himself with? Keeping one eye on Rachel as she sat down to get her shoes on, Garrett pulled out his wallet. Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Kingpin had probably found and frozen most of his accounts by now so why not spend what was left on flat sodas and overpriced vending garbage? Handing her some bills, Garrett glanced towards the small bar area. "Get me a beer would you?"

"We don't serve alcohol here."

Garrett stared at the owner until the lanky, middle-aged man stepped back a few paces. "You don't serve alcohol here? Why the fuck not?"

"You're not watching your mouth," Rachel called, wandering listlessly amongst the bowling balls.

"Rachel… just…don't drop any of those." Turning back to the man behind the counter, Garrett resumed their earlier conversation. "Why. The fuck. Would you not serve alcohol?"

"I like to keep the place kid-friendly."

"Kid kid or teenager kid?"

"Both, sir."

"Well that's why we're the only people here. Kids don't bowl unless they're with adults. Adults like booze, especially when they've got kids with them. Teenagers like booze more than adults."

"Why are we doing this?" Rachel asked, having wandered back to Abby and her uncle.

"Because it's the only thing open," Garrett answered distractedly.

"You said bowling was for people who couldn't do real sports."

The lane owner looked positively insulted. Abby cracked a brief smile. Garrett rubbed his forehead to ward off a headache. "See, this is why you need booze at places like this."

* * *

She'd sent them away so that she and Matt could have some privacy, so they could discuss anything and everything without prying ears to contend with. Now they were gone and Elektra couldn't find words. Matt stood across from her in the living room and there wasn't a single thing she could say. He was looking down like a shamed child and it made her want to hurt him.

Matt felt sick to his stomach. The realization of what he'd almost done was finally sinking in and it was enough to make him physically ill. Worse than that, he could read every sign E's body was trying to suppress. Breathing that was forced to stay even, a heart forcing itself not to race. Tears that were on the verge of spilling. He wanted to run. He wanted to hold her and beg and tell her everything and just plead for her to understand. He wanted to pick up that gun again because this pain, like so many others in her life, was his doing. He did none of those things. Instead he stood there and waited and wished for something other than silence. Silence was what he'd had when they weren't working on him, when they weren't warping his mind and body into something sick and deformed. Yelling, hitting, possibly even crying would be better than the silence.

"Is this what you meant when you talked about not hurting me?" the brunette finally asked.

"E, I wasn't-"

"Don't. Don't lawyer me. Don't say you weren't yourself or plead temporary insanity or say any of the things you think I want to hear."

"That's not what I'm trying to do."

"I know exactly what you're going to do," she replied, crossing her arms defensively. "You're going to tell me you're fine and you have it under control and I shouldn't worry." Her voice lowered considerably on the next words. "And I'll believe you because I want to and because I don't know what else to do."

"Elektra, I wasn't going to do it. I told you I'd already-"

"I know. You put a bullet in the wall to clear your head." She believed him about that, absurd as it sounded.

"It was the file. The voice…it does things, I've told you that."

"You haven't really, but I know that, too. I know you weren't yourself. So that means I'm not supposed to get mad about this."

Shaking his head, Matt took a few hesitant steps forward. "I never said that."

"No, you never did. You don't say a lot of things anymore."

"Elektra…"

"On the pier, when you said you'd do whatever it took not to hurt me again, was this what you meant?"

Matt's immediate response was denial. He hadn't been planning it out. Taking the gun was a snap decision, one he hadn't made until he was walking back to the cabin and thinking of ways to murder Garrett Pierce. But he wasn't completely sure about that now. Hadn't he thought briefly about the blade incident just before E joined him by the lake? Hadn't he been worried about what he might end up doing? It was all so jumbled. But he wasn't sure, so he couldn't pretend that he was. "I don't think so. Maybe in the back of my mind."

"In the back of your mind," Elektra repeated tonelessly.

"E, you can't…you don't understand what happens when they get into your head. Rachel-"

"Don't make this about her," the brunette snapped, shivers traveling down her spine as she waged a losing battle against feelings racing toward the surface. He always did this to her, heightened everything, made it so hard to stay in control.

"It is about her," Matt said softly, wanting to touch Elektra, but knowing what would happen if he did. "It's about Rachel and Abby and you…Garrett," he continued, the last name coming somewhat grudgingly from his lips.

"Garrett. The only way Garrett fits into this is my having to put him on suicide watch so you wouldn't drown yourself outside." She was angry, she couldn't help it. He wasn't himself and he wouldn't have done this under any other circumstances and really it all came back to the Hand. They were responsible for all of this and so much more. Her mother. Mark Miller's wife. They'd even tried taking Abby. It was their fault, not Matt's. Not his fault that they'd taken the best part of her life and turned him into someone else. It wasn't his fault, but he was here and Roshi wasn't, nor was that nameless man on the file. He was here and he'd very nearly left her again and she couldn't break down so she focused on the anger.

Matt was angry too. Mostly at himself, at the people that did this, but Elektra wasn't listening. He understood what he'd done, how deeply he'd wounded her, but E was never very good at listening. Not to her father, or Stick, or himself. She got angry when things were kept from her, but refused to listen when they weren't. Still, he tamped down on his own feelings because he _was _in the wrong here and there wasn't much of a defense for it. However, that didn't mean he couldn't put up something of a fight. "You always thought I was being paranoid before, when I stayed away. Do you think that now? Do you think Stick would've waited to tell you about me if he thought I was being paranoid?"

"He was doing what you asked him to do," Elektra said, knowing the argument wouldn't hold up. Things might've changed by the end, when the old man finally revealed the truth to her, but…no. "I told you not to do this. Don't turn this around."

"I was slipping again. You saw that. I wanted to hurt you. I was outside thinking about last year and how I should've finished the job with you and Abby. This was after I finished thinking about you _fucking _Garrett and how he must've shot you to turn you against me. Does that make sense? Does that seem logical to you? Because that's what I am now, that's what they did to me. And if became that person again, we both know what would happen. And if that happened…I can't do that. I can't hurt you anymore. And if I did I'd probably end up killing myself anyways."

Elektra said nothing for several long moments. When she did speak again, her words were hard and cold. "Stop. Stop making this into one of your heroic saves. The thing you keep forgetting is that you _didn't _'finish the job' with Abby and I. You could've and you didn't. You told me every day at the Compound how tortured you were, what you wanted to do, but you didn't. Stick wouldn't put Abby at risk like that if he didn't trust you. He told me about you because he knew you were above them, he knew you were beyond their control."

"Beyond their control. That's funny. Remember what Ethan said? Pierce's brother sent me to the wrong place so he could give Rachel a chance. I killed Charles Mitchum for no other reason than his being in that house. And you're probably right. You and Abby are probably too close to me so I fought it with you. I didn't fight it with Mitchum. Or the guards Stick had watching you the night I showed up. Or any of the others that I can barely even remember anymore. Those people were no one to me, and neither was Rachel. And the thing _you _and Abby and even Garrett seem to have forgotten is that I would've killed her. If Rachel was in that house, I would've killed her like I did Mitchum. Because she was there. Because that's what Roshi wanted. I would've killed a seven year old child and I wouldn't have cared. I didn't care with the others and I wouldn't have cared with her. How am I supposed to live with that?"

Again, Elektra couldn't answer right away. As much as she hated the Hand, at this moment she hated him more. Hated him the way she had when she thought he'd murdered her father. "Do you even hear what you're saying anymore?" she asked loudly, a single tear falling down her cheek. "You try and make it sound like some altruistic thing you did to save us. And you might actually believe that. Honestly I don't even know anymore because five minutes after you came in and told me you were fine, you had a gun to your head. And here you are saying that you did this because of us."

"I never claimed that it made sense," Matt said tightly.

"Damn you. You just asked me how you're supposed to live with yourself. You didn't do this for me, you did it for you. You went in that room because you gave up. Whatever it is that you're hiding, that you can't tell me, it became too much and you gave up. And I could understand that. As stupid as it was and as much as I _hate _you for…" Elektra trailed off, violently ridding her eyes of the moisture clouding her vision. Swallowing hard, she glared at him fiercely, nails digging into the sides of her arms. "I could understand you giving up. But don't, _don't _lie to me and say that this was you being heroic, being a martyr."

Matt listened to her breathing, inhaled the salty scent of tears. She wasn't right. Some of what he'd done was for her, for them. But she wasn't wrong either. Stomach in knots, he searched his mind for something to say. Anything that would make this go away. He'd been wrong before. Silence was not better than tears.

Elektra put her back to him, unable to meet his eyes any longer. The tears were there, silent but steady and all she could think was that it was good he was blind. He knew what was happening, but he'd never grasp it fully and that was good. She shouldn't think that way, that it was good for him to be blind, but she couldn't help it. The tears were there, but she choked them down, keeping her voice as strong as she could. "You like bringing up my leaving. Five years I let you think I was gone."

"No," he protested, reaching for her uninjured shoulder. "Elektra, no."

She shrugged away from him, needing to get space between them. Once she'd gained a bit of breathing room, Elektra made herself face him again. Hiding was weak. She'd hid her face on his shoulder during the party, minutes before her father was killed. She'd hid against him because she wanted to believe that he was different, that he could protect her from everything. It was a weak and foolish notion that she no longer had time for. "You do. Isn't that always the first thing to come up whenever you stop playing nice, when you finally let yourself-"

"Dammit, Elektra! I'm not myself--I _wasn't _myself on the pier. I just…I get so angry and I can't-"

"Shhh. I'm not asking for an apology. You're not even wrong. But you can't punish me for that anymore, because that's exactly what you were going to do. You were going to leave me again." Goddammit, why was she always so weak with him? "Did you think about that? Did you care?"

Cursing inwardly, Matt closed the distance between them. Gently he ran his hands along her face, using his hands to read her expression. Elektra tried to jerk away, but Matt held her still. Slowly, he ran the pads of his fingers over her lips, then up to her cheeks, taking away the wetness he found there. He traced the bridge of her nose lightly, noting the shivers she was trying to ignore. Eventually, he reached closed eyes. With feather light touches, he coaxed her eyelids upward. He needed her to see him as he spoke, even if he couldn't do the same. "I cared. I _always _care," he said softly. "I've told you that you saved my life and you never believe me but it's true. If I didn't care, I'd be more screwed up than I already am," he continued, lips curving in a crooked half-grin. Then he grew serious again. "If I didn't care, I'd be Roshi's second-in-command by now. I would've fired that gun into something other than the wall."

He was telling her the truth and she knew that. But he'd tried to kill himself. He'd changed his mind, but the man had been one trigger pull away from leaving her again. And he'd done this knowing what she'd seen about Abby, fully aware of that terrible vision that'd haunted her for weeks. Elektra was determined that it wouldn't happen, that no harm would come to her protégé, but the fear was still there, clawing at the back of her mind. Everything else had come true, why would this time be any different? If Matt had left her, and if Abby were to follow…that would be it. Everything that mattered would be gone and she'd be alone again. And Matt stole a gun and locked the door, knowing that he'd be leaving her alone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her cheekbone with his finger. "That's not enough, but it's all I can say."

Against her will, Elektra leaned into his hand, releasing an almost-silent whimper. Shamed and fighting emotional overload, the billionaire's daughter shied away from his touch, watching the hurt dance across his face with grim satisfaction. At least he was experiencing a small modicum of what she was going through.

"E," he sighed. "I couldn't…I had a bad moment. You can't tell me you've never felt like giving up."

"I've never tried to kill myself with two emotionally wrecked kids down the hall."

"I had a bad moment."

"Bad moment," she echoed hoarsely. "Isn't that what we are? You and I and this life we have, it's a series of bad moments broken apart by periods when we're not fighting or on the run or dealing with people who shouldn't even exist anymore."

"Is that how you think of us?" Matt asked sadly.

No, not really. Not for the most part. But she couldn't tell him that because she couldn't even think straight, much less make herself talk.

"E," he said, apparently deciding that his last question was better left unanswered. "Don't tell me you've never once felt like quitting."

No, she wouldn't tell him that. Because she'd felt like quitting in the maze, when Kirigi had her beaten near the well.

And when Matt died the first time. Or hadn't died. When she'd buried the man who wasn't really Matt.

"_You're tired. You're tired and you're making excuses."_

After the shoulder wound. She'd been weak and drugged and hallucinating. And Matt told her off. Or hadn't told her off. The version of Matt she'd conjured in her mind to keep from dying alone.

"_I'm not strong enough. I'm gonna die."_

"_Won't be the first time."_

She hadn't attempted suicide, but she had given up. Wasn't that what Matt did when he took that gun? But it wasn't the same because she'd been weak and drugged and exhausted. And Matt had been weak and exhausted from fighting that man on the tape, the same man he'd been fighting continuously over the past year.

"_You're tired. You're tired and you're making excuses."_

It was somewhat the same, even though it wasn't. Matt had faced his demons every day for over twenty years. Elektra ran from hers. Ran and hid and kept moving so that they wouldn't catch up to her. She'd hidden for five years, given up and resigned herself to running. Matt had faltered for the briefest of moments, but he hadn't followed through. Green eyes narrowed as she abruptly pulled his right hand away from her face. Examining it closely, the brunette raked her nails over the faded scars on his wrists. "What is this?" Elektra demanded.

Matt shifted uneasily. She'd been aware of the marks for months, but she'd never asked about them.

Elektra let that hand drop, taking hold of the other. "What is this?" she repeated.

Sighing, Matt captured her hands in his, stopping the exploration. E already had her answer, but he gave it to her anyway. "Another bad moment."

"How many bad moments were there, Matt?"

"Two, counting tonight."

A shudder ran up her spine as she tried to pull away. Matt tightened his grip, keeping their fingers intertwined. Eyes dropping to the floor, Elektra watched the pain flash across his face.. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't an issue. It's the tape, E. He just…the man does things-"

"Don't do that. Don't lie."

"I'm not," he countered.

"Not completely, but you're not telling me everything. Are you protecting me again, is that what this is?"

"No, this is me trying to get my head on straight. And telling you every little thing about what happened isn't going to help that. E, neither of us are built like that and you know it. Do I ask you about your mother or…the time you were gone?"

"That's not-"

"When you wake up screaming every other night, I don't ask you to relive whatever it was so that-"

"It's completely different and you know that," Elektra snapped. Walking away from him again, she began pacing the length of the room. "What am I supposed to say? Do you need to hear about what I did? Do you want to?"

"No," he admitted softly. "But apparently you need to hear about me."

"I need to hear what happened to you to make you think…" Elektra trailed off, wiping more tears. The pacing stopped and she stood across the room from him, forcing herself not to break.

"You're wrong," Matt said quietly. "You don't want to know."

"Really. But Stick and Abby did want to know."

"Stick was different. And Abby knowing had nothing to do with me. You think I wanted that for her?"

"I'm not saying it's your fault!" she exclaimed. "Matt, I can't do this. You can't do this to me," she continued, an unwanted image of Matt holding that gun flashing in her mind.

"E, I know what happens when you lie. I know what your body does."

"Is that what I'm doing? I'm lying to you now?"

Matt gazed helplessly in her direction, preparing himself for what would come next. "I'm running from this, you're right. All I can think is that if I pretend it didn't happen, then I won't turn again. I won't be that person who hurt you, who makes you miserable. But E, you _don't _want to know what happened to me. Every time you ask, you're hoping I don't give an answer."

Elektra stared in disbelief, feeling her stomach drop to the floor. "You're being insane."

"Not right now," he argued. "Tell me I'm wrong," he said earnestly. "Tell me I'm wrong and I'll believe you."

Elektra said nothing. He was deflecting again, but there was more to it than that. "Tell me anyway," she ordered. "Lying or not, just tell me."

Rubbing his stubble-covered face in a nervous gesture, Matt winced when he hit the bruise forming there. Garrett's right hook was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Matt."

She _was_ lying, whether she knew it or not. He should've told her anyway, but her reluctance had been a good excuse, a good reason to hide. "Okay," he agreed, voice barely audible.

Elektra blinked in surprise, still trying to process his last few comments.

"Ask whatever you need," he encouraged, hoping he didn't sound as scared as he felt.

A moment went by, then two. Ignoring the dread threatening to overtake her, Elektra got close to him again, mildly alarmed by how stony Matt's face was. He grimaced as she ran her fingers down his left arm. "The arm's stiffer than it was, the way you hold it sometimes."

"They broke it," he said simply. "I was chained up and I wanted to get loose. One of the guards saw what I was doing and he broke my arms." Matt listened as her heart skipped, rushing to explain and move on. "They could heal injuries, if they did it fast enough. That's the only reason I can still walk, they needed me in fighting shape so they couldn't do too much damage. They'd break bones, whatever they wanted, then they'd heal me enough to do it again the next day. They waited too long with the arm, it never set correctly."

Elektra sucked in a harsh breath, wishing desperately that she could control her body's reactions, or at least hide them from Matt. He was right; she didn't want to hear this. She'd seen the scars where he'd obviously sliced into his own wrists, but she'd never pushed him, never even mentioned the marks. He said he was fine before he went upstairs for the gun and she'd known he was lying. Though she never imagined the extent to which he was lying, she'd known in every part of her mind and body that something was still wrong. She'd known and she'd ignored it.

"E," Matt prodded gently, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She was trembling slightly and he doubted she was aware of it. "It's okay."

It wasn't, tonight had proven that indisputably. "How does it work?" she asked, forcing herself to continue questioning him.

"How does what work?"

"The voice, what that man does to you. You never really explained it, Stick didn't either."

The lawyer clenched his jaw, blank eyes shutting tightly as he let his hands drop. "I don't know. I forgot a lot of the specifics."

He was the one lying now, Elektra's temper flaring in response. The wound was open and gushing, why couldn't they just get this done and let it start to heal? Elektra reached up to touch him and he flinched, her hand barely grazing the side of his face. There was suppressed terror in his eyes and she knew that Matt was lost in bad memories. "Sorry."

"No," he said firmly, the hurt tone bringing him back to the present. Matt leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers in a quick, tender kiss before she could pull away. "You don't apologize to me."

He was blaming himself because he thought he was weak. Elektra said nothing because nothing she could say would change his mind. The man held himself to impossible standards, and she knew he'd never forgive himself for anything that'd gone on. Truthfully, Elektra wasn't sure _she _could forgive him for tonight. For now she ignored the pain and betrayal of his almost leaving her, focusing on more immediate concerns. "What else? What else was there?"

He'd given permission for this, yet Matt couldn't seem to do what he'd promised. It was too much, the memories and the questions and the thought of what he'd almost done. He couldn't tell her all of it, not yet. "You were there," he said truthfully. "It felt like you were. That was the only part of it that doesn't make me want to kill them. They could do things, get inside my head, mess with my thoughts but it was more than that. After I started to give in, I'd get these images of…of things that didn't happen."

Elektra waited in silence for him to continue. She didn't ask how such a thing was possible, though she couldn't claim to understand it. When it came to Stick and the Hand and the people who killed with living tattoos, nothing surprised her anymore.

"I think it was partly a reward, what they did sometimes. I was losing and they knew it and they were trying to weaken me faster. I'd agree with what that bastard was telling me, no arguments, and he'd plant these things in my mind."

He was drifting, Elektra saw that easily enough. Carefully, she took hold of his hand. Partially to bring him back to Earth and partially to reassure herself that he was still there.

Matt twitched slightly, fingers tightening on hers. He could feel the question in the air, so clear she might as well have spoken aloud. "We were younger, you were with me at Columbia. I was still blind but it didn't matter. All we worried about were classes and finding ways to get Foggy out of the dorm room so we could be alone."

Matt smiled at the memory and hated himself for doing it. None of that was real, it was all a manipulation. But it had been so much easier when he listened, when they let him be a twenty year old man with a girlfriend. E's father was still alive there, she was the person he'd met seven years ago Young and hopeful and not nearly as damaged by the world. It was sickening really, that sometimes Matt craved the delusion, the manipulation, over the reality of his life. The smile became a derisive sneer. "And the best part of this was that I figured it out. After awhile, I realized that I was chained to a wall, having conversations with people who weren't there. But by the time that happened, I didn't care anymore. I really didn't care that I was having one-sided discussions about what to do when school ended and whether or not your father liked me. I didn't care, and I think that's when it started. That's when I believed what they were telling me and started as Roshi's new recruit."

His hand pulled out of hers, arms crossing defensively. Elektra was used to self-loathing from him, but not to this degree. She looked at the floor, trying to compose herself. The Hand used her. They used her against him, used their relationship to make him vulnerable. Ruthlessly suppressing those thoughts, Elektra studied the myriad of scars covering Matt's face. The physical wounds were easier to discuss than the emotional ones. He flinched as she touched a mark on his chin, one he hadn't had before. "What happened here?"

'Dad' almost came flying out of his mouth. He almost told her about the other delusions, the ones where Jack Murdock beat his son on a regular basis. "I don't know," he replied. He didn't. He knew they'd hurt him, but they'd made it seem like his father was the one doing it. He didn't tell her this. He didn't tell her how they'd somehow make that room smell like his father's corpse.

Elektra let it go, even though she shouldn't have. That's what Matt was talking about earlier, she always let the hard stuff go. Not knowing what they'd done to Matt was easier, so telling him that she wanted to hear about it was a lie. She didn't handle emotions well, and she preferred running over dealing with them. That was part of the reason Abby had known for months about Matt being alive while she hadn't. The nightmares came, Elektra asked a few times what was happening, and she let Abby convince her there was nothing wrong. She'd known it was a lie and she'd let it continue because it was too hard to worry about what was actually going on. "What is this?" she asked, indicating a diamond-shaped scar over Matt's right eye. Dwelling on her failings as a human being would come later.

Matt's already rigid body tightened up more as she fingered the mark near his eyebrow. The other times he'd flinched, but hadn't pulled away completely. This time he gently swatted her hand away, resisting the urge to shift from foot to foot. "It's a burn," he said roughly. "Just a burn."

Elektra shook her head angrily, green eyes flashing. She understood that neither of them was good with this sort of thing. She understood that every time Matt got within ten miles of a subject that was painful for her, her response was complete shutdown. She even understood that his reluctance wasn't a trust issue, but that didn't help matters. _Stick _knew more about this than she did. _Abby_ knew more about this than she did. And both of them knew something of Matt's true whereabouts well before she'd known he was even alive. She needed to hear this, even though she didn't want to and, while he had revealed some things, Elektra knew he wasn't telling her one tenth of what needed to be said.

"I'm getting in touch with Foggy," she announced, needing to get away from him. Besides that, she felt incredibly guilty about the current situation and needed to give Foggy an explanation.

"Elektra," Matt called, realizing too late that he'd gone too far by lying to her again.

The former mercenary continued to walk away from him, hating the sting of oncoming tears. "I need to get the number from Garrett." She also needed to find out where he'd taken the girls. She wouldn't be surprised if he made good on his suggestion earlier that night and dragged them to a bar.

* * *

"I think that was my roll."

"Sorry," Abby replied, wholly unapologetic.

Garrett shrugged. He sat at on the uncomfortable plastic seat in front of their lane, trying to blink away a splitting headache. The bright lighting and neon green pins weren't helping to improve his mood. Abby was the only one bothering to play, looking extremely pissed off every time she made another strike. Garrett thought she was imagining Matt's face on the pins.

The moronic owner who didn't serve booze appeared out of nowhere, eagerly asking if there was anything they needed. This was the fifth time he'd done this, leading Garrett to think that the man hadn't served a customer in at least two months.

"Yeah," the hitman replied as Abby joined him and took a sip of her soda. "Actually there is. You mind turning off this music?" Whatever station was blaring over the speakers, Garrett didn't like it. He'd just finished listening to some piece of crap song about partying in the U.S.A. for the third time and it was creating homicidal thoughts.

"You don't like it?" the owner asked, sounding very wounded. "The wife says all the kids like this music."

Garrett made a mental not to blow this place up at a future date. "Abby," he said, "do you like this music?"

"Who cares?" the teen replied flatly.

"She doesn't like it," Garrett stated, turning back to the manager. "Now turn this shit off. If you're wife has a problem, have her come talk to me."

"Well, that'd be kind of hard, sir. Louise left me last year."

"I wonder why."

"We're just separated though, so maybe-"

"Look," Garrett interrupted, pulling out a crumpled wad of bills and stuffing them in the front pocket of the other man's shirt. "How about I give you this money, you turn off the fucking music before my ears die, then you stay away. Don't ask if we need anything else, don't check how we're doing, just sit behind your counter and look at pictures of your soon-to-be ex-wife. Okay? Does that work for you?"

The owner's eyes became somewhat glassy as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Of course, sir. But if you don't mind my saying, you probably shouldn't use that language in front of your daughter."

Irritated beyond description, Garrett glanced down at the space next to him. Rachel was dead out, curled up with her shoes off and her head on Abby's jacket."She's not my daughter, she's fast asleep, and I do mind."

"Sorry, sir. But really, a kid that young, shouldn't she be in bed?"

Abby, who was leaning against the table with their drinks, watched as Garrett stood, spoke into the shorter man's ear, and reclaimed the cash he'd given moments earlier/ He then dropped back into his seat while the sad business owner turned a disturbing shade of white and hurried back to his place in the front. "What'd you say to him?" Abby asked.

"Classified. You'll repeat it to Elektra and then she'll stab me again."

"Again?"

"There was an incident in Chicago a few years back."

"So why'd she stab you?"

"I think it was because I shot at her."

"Nice, real nice."

Garrett shrugged, taking a long swig from his drink. "Business, nothing personal. If it was personal, I wouldn't have missed the shot and she would've dug the knife in properly."

Abby stared at him for a long moment. It couldn't be healthy that none of what he'd just said seemed odd to her. Shaking herself mentally, the teen sat down as far away from him as possible and grabbed an order of stale nachos that was next to her soda. A plastic fork had come with the food and she used it to stab aimlessly at old tortilla chips smothered in cold cheese sauce.

Garrett observed this quietly, one eyebrow crawling up to his hairline. Elektra's protégé had alternated between sullen and livid ever since they left the cabin. Watching her spear a jalapeño pepper with the white plastic, Garrett allowed himself a smirk.

"What?" Abby questioned sharply, feeling his eyes on her.

Garrett shrugged, random details from Bullseye's S.H.I.E.L.D file popping into his head. Apparently, the assassin escaped government custody last year through the use of a plastic spork.

"Can we go yet?"

Garrett sighed in relief as the bowling alley went suddenly silent, though his headache didn't improve. "Do you really want to be there while they're fighting this out? Because I sure as hell don't."

"What's to fight out? Matt was a stupid asshole again."

The venom in her tone made Garrett vaguely uneasy. "Look, I'm not saying it wasn't a stupid move, I'm not defending him but-"

"—but really that's exactly what you're doing," Abby cut in, abandoning her assault on the snack long enough to roll another strike, handling the ball with an impressive amount of force.

Garrett waited a few seconds before calling her back. Once she sat down again, the hitman leaned forward, speaking in a low, serious voice. "He loves you, both of you. It's disgustingly obvious and life's too short for you to-"

"I never said he didn't, I said he was a stupid, selfish jerk who-"

"All right stop. He did a stupid, selfish thing and I'm sure Elektra's already put his ass in a sling for doing it, but I highly doubt that he's a stupid, selfish person."

"She didn't eat when he was gone, you know that? She'd work out obsessively, even for her, then she'd pretend like she cared what was going on with my life."

"Give it a rest," he said quietly. "E doesn't _pretend _to care about anyone."

Abby averted her gaze, conceding the point. "Okay, that was stupid. But she wasn't there, not really. The only reason she didn't starve was because I did the shopping. And she hardly spent any time in the apartment, I don't even know where she went, it was just that she couldn't be there alone. My teachers were calling her every other day because I was getting in trouble and she never knew. I'd erase the messages every night and that'd be it. And I'd sneak out every other night too. That shouldn't have been possible with her," Abby explained, feeling her throat constrict. "She was angry half the time, clinically depressed the other half and on the nights when I _was _there, I had to listen to her crying through the wall and act like I didn't hear anything. And Matt was going to what? He was going to do that to her all over again tonight because he's a stupid, selfish jerk."

Garrett pretended to check on Rachel while the teen wiped a few tears that'd managed to escape during her trip down memory lane. The hitman sighed inwardly, stroking his niece's hair. He knew from Stick and others that E had gone into a tailspin after her father's murder, and he vaguely recalled that her mother was supposed to have died a violent death as well. Both parents, her own murder, then Matt too. Garrett figured that Abby was the only reason E hadn't lost it completely, but Abby was a kid who shouldn't have had to carry that burden.

When the teen's face was dry, Garrett tried putting his attention back on her, but Rachel latched on to his hand in her hair and held on tight. Blinking hard, Garrett continued to run his fingers through blonde locks while making sure he had eye contact with the ex-Treasure. "Whatever happened to you or E or him was bullshit. Having said that, you're smart enough to realize that all of it starts with the Hand. And I don't know Murdock that well, but he seems like a guy who's very familiar with the guilt-trip."

Abby nodded, conceding another point. Matt and his good old Catholic guilt.

"Right. So between E laying into him and the beating I'm sure he's giving himself, you're being pissed off too is probably a tad excessive. And you're also smart enough to realize that Mr. Elektra doesn't fit the bill for being selfish. Elektra and I, we're essentially selfish people. The pain you felt when your old man died, what Rachel's feeling with…with Jimmy, that's what selfish people cause. We hurt or kill others to fill our own needs, because we're angry or greedy or both."

"Elektra doesn't do that anymore," Abby mumbled, needing to stick up for her friend.

"True," Garrett acknowledged carefully. He knew Abby hadn't forgiven him for holding a pregnant woman at gunpoint during their escape from the hospital. She was keeping the peace with him mostly for Rachel's sake and he was fine with that. He wasn't going to tell Abby that, during her more angry periods, Elektra might well have killed the doctor rather than leaving her unconscious. "People change, and I guess E's one of them, but either way. We both did incredibly bad, selfish things that Murdock would never do." Under normal circumstances anyway.

"And people like Bullseye and Kirigi and Fisk? Are they just selfish too?"

"Are you kidding? Bullseye and Kirigi and Fisk aren't selfish, they're just massive, massive pricks. Elektra would do anything for you. Or Murdock," he added reluctantly. "That's also disgustingly obvious. And I'm a complete jackass too, but Rachel…" he trailed off, thinking of what his brother may have done to the girl. If Jimmy weren't dead already, Garrett would've gladly remedied that situation. "I'd do anything for Rachel," he continued, throwing his niece another look. "There's selfish and then there's sociopathic. People can do the worst things imaginable and still care about others. Murdock is apparently one of the stupid minority who care more about others than himself. Bullseye and Kirigi and Kingpin and Bloody Mary-"

"Typhoid Mary," Abby corrected.

The hitman made a dismissive gesture. "All of them are just massive, sociopathic pricks who care about nothing and no one."

"Jeez," Abby said after digesting Garrett's speech. "Is that the most you've ever spoken at one time?"

Garrett coughed and laughed simultaneously. "There's no beer, I'm talking to distract myself."

Abby nodded, a reluctant smile touching her lips.

It was at that moment that Garrett's cell started to buzz insistently. Removing it from his pocket, Garrett quickly checked the display.

'She-Devil'

Easing his other hand out of Rachel's grasp, the hitman slid out from behind the table. "Stay here," he told Abby. "I've got to talk to my bookie."

Garrett walked to the far side of the bowling alley, making his way to the closet-sized excuse for a bathroom. Locking the door behind him, Garrett opened his phone, trying not to touch anything since the room didn't appear very clean. "Anybody dead, dying, or about to be dead or dying?"

"Stop trying to be funny."

"No, and I don't have to try, E, it's a natural talent. Everything okay over there?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound like its fine. Has he-?"

"Matt's fine," Elektra snapped. "I told you he wouldn't hurt me."

"You also told me I was the first," Garrett replied. He was sick and shaky and he joked hoping that E wouldn't notice.

"Where are you?" Elektra asked, totally ignoring the flirtation.

"Porn shop." Silence on the other end of the line. "It was the only thing open."

"Garrett," she said menacingly, "If you're kidding-"

"—you'll cut off Garrett Jr. If I'm not kidding you'll cut off Jr. and his two best friends, I get it. You give me too much credit though if you think I could get a fake ID for a second grader."

"Where are you, Garrett?"

"Bowling alley, midnight special. It's giving me a low-grade seizure."

"You took them bowling?"

"Bowling pins or dildos, Elektra, bowling alley or porn shop."

"Abby hates bowling."

"I think she's using it to take out aggression. Kid's got amazing aim. How do you know she hates bowling?"

"Because the one time we went-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop for a second. _You _went bowling?"

"This isn't the time, Garrett."

"_You _went bowling," he repeated. "Like a regular person?"

"It was a gym class field trip," Elektra snapped irritably. "Abby was in trouble with the teacher, I didn't need her getting expelled-"

"—so you babysat a bunch of pubescent brats at a bowling alley? With parents who don't kill for their paychecks?"

"Are you done yet?"

"Ten seconds." Pulling the phone away and covering the earpiece, Garrett laughed hard and loud for eight seconds before he started to cough violently. Placing the phone on the sink, he coughed into his arm, trying to breathe past the weight in his chest. When it was over, he placed the phone by his ear, yanking some toilet paper off the roll. "Sorry," he apologized, sounding almost normal. "Times of stress, stuff seems funnier, you know how it goes."

"Uh huh."

"Okay, so _you _don't know how it goes," he replied, pinching the cheap paper over his nose.

"I need to talk to Foggy."

"Chastity said she'd call back," Garrett answered, watching through a dirty mirror as the white material turned red with blood.

"Just give me the number."

"Since you asked nicely," Garrett sighed, willing his hands to stop shaking."Listen, I was going to call her anyway. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Garrett-"

"Give me some time, Elektra!" he snapped.

More silence. "Are you all right?"

Christ, _Elektra _was picking up on someone else's pain? God damn was he getting worse. "Told you, this hellhole is giving me a fucking seizure," he muttered, backing up and sinking against the wall because his knees were starting to give. "I'll have him call you."

"Are you drunk?"

"If only, if only," he mumbled. Tossing the paper, he wiped his nose with his hand, wiping the blood from that on a fresh wad of cheap tissue. "Have you guys had your round of obligatory make up sex? Because I'd really like to get out of here."

"Can you be serious for two minutes?"

"You haven't. Well can you try and get to it soon? And keep it to your room for God's sake. I don't want to come home and find stains on the couch or the counter or the-"

"Don't."

"There are condoms under the sink in the downstairs bathroom, but they're old so you might be taking a risk."

The line went dead.

Pocketing the phone, Garrett removed the black case from inside his jacket. So E would be pissed at him for trivializing her lover's near-suicide attempt, at least she was off the phone. Opening the small case, Garrett removed the syringe inside, along with the rest of the contents. He'd meant to save this until later, but then tonight happened and all his pills were gone. He was good at blocking out physical needs, ignoring pain or cravings, but there were limits to everything. The pills were gone and there was no booze here and right now he didn't need to put up a front for Abby and Rachel. He worked automatically, gaining relief within minutes. Relaxing tensed muscles and breathing deep, Garrett decided that he didn't like bathrooms. Murdock tried to off himself in his bathroom and he, Garrett, was shooting up in the tiny, boring bathroom of a tiny, boring bowling alley.

When his nose was done bleeding, his hands were done shaking, and he didn't feel like puking anymore, Garrett replaced the items in the case, put the case back in his jacket, and pulled out his cell phone. Holding down one of the speed dial buttons, he waited for Chastity to pick up. "Hey," he greeted upon hearing her voice. "Are you being nice to him? I told you to try and be nice to him. No, no stop. Stop, Chast. Give him your phone…would you listen? Give him the phone and have him…it's not a fucking security risk, Chast.

Several minutes of arguing later and he'd given her Elektra's cell number, extracting a promise that Nelson would call her as soon as he returned from hiding in the jet's lavatory. Climbing to his feet, Garrett put her on hold long enough to wash his hands before resuming the conversation."Listen to me. Why'd you ask about the Tokarev? Chastity. Why did you ask about the…yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. I gave it to Jimmy. Christmas, seven years ago. I don't know if he still had…probably, he loved…no.

Chastity talked for roughly three minutes. Garrett's knees weakened again and he had to clutch the sink for support. His face drained of all color and a vein become visible on his forehead. "You're sure? Well it doesn't mean…no. No. Can you prove…no, see. That's ridiculous. No. No, just shut up and listen. Send me what you have. Send it to his computer. I don't fucking care, Chastity, then encrypt it. Because I don't trust _your people_. I've worked with _your people_…I don't care how long ago it was! You send me the files and I'll…dammit, Chastity! No, I'm not calming down and I'm not listening to your bullshit excuses. Remember South America? Do we have to go over…yeah. Yeah, that's right. I didn't think so. Fine, this'll be the last time. Fine. You let Nelson talk to her, you let him talk to her and you mind your business and you keep your mouth shut. South America, Chast, I'll talk to you however I want after that. Good. Send me the files, whatever you have…then _encrypt _them! I'll have time to go through…no. Obviously she's not going to know. Believe me, with what's going on around here, she won't even notice. Because she couldn't care less about what I do. Just send me the data and I'll figure it out. Good. Fine. Bye."

Abby questioned him as soon as he got back. He told her the toilet had been clogged, explaining away his strange expression. Then he told her to bowl a few more frames so Mr. and Mrs. Elektra could sort things out in private. He watched her bowl strike after strike, keeping one hand on Rachel's back. At some point, the girl woke long enough to change positions, moving her head from Abby's jacket to her uncle's lap. She fell back to sleep immediately and Garrett stroked her hair again. Sheer force of will kept him from breaking down as he thought about Elektra and Chastity and Rachel's stupid, selfish father.

* * *

Elektra lit the fireplace in their room, paying little attention to the screaming pain in her shoulder. Garrett was right; the arm really should've been in a sling. The fire had been less about warmth than it was about finding something to do with her hands and now she paced restlessly, moving to keep up with her racing thoughts. She'd toyed with the idea of a workout, but the notion was quickly discarded. Her arm hurt. Immensely. And she was immensely exhausted, ragged to the bone in every possible way. Additionally, a training session would mean leaving this bedroom, and leaving this bedroom meant the possibility of seeing Matt.

He'd almost killed himself. Almost left her again. And he'd brought to light the embarrassing realization that they were both cowards, despite his alter ego's reputation as The Man Without Fear. He was afraid to tell her what happened and she was afraid to hear it. Hearing it meant she'd have to imagine it, have to find ways of helping him deal with it. She couldn't even beat her own demons, never mind his. And Matt had always been the better one, the one who helped her (as much as Elektra would let him) keep her sanity. Stick wasn't there anymore and the idea of being needed so much, of being responsible for keeping Matt out of total despair…

They'd used her. The bastards of the Hand had used her as a weapon. Rationally she knew that that wasn't her fault, but rational thought was hard to maintain while she was so thoroughly run down.

He'd brought up the forbidden subject. Her time as an assassin was something they couldn't afford to dwell on. Elektra always knew he'd been entirely too easy on her. She was a killer, she'd admitted that to him, and he'd simply accepted it. Accepted her word that she was done with it, told her it was all in the past and left it at that. Then Mark was dead and Abby was an orphan and days after turning his life upside down, Elektra had asked to do so again. In the hospital, while Abby recovered from a near fatal dose of poison, Elektra told him the situation, told him that Abby was alone and that she, Elektra couldn't simply leave her in the mountains with Stick. Days after crashing back into his life with no warning, she'd asked him to open his home to a kid he barely knew. And he'd looked at her like she was crazy, pulling her into his arms in the middle of the hospital cafeteria.

"_Whatever you need. Whatever _both _of you need."_

He'd looked at her like she was crazy because to him, Abby's moving in was a foregone conclusion. He'd seen whatever insane bond the two shared and simply assumed that Abby would be part of their lives now. He didn't understand why Elektra was so hesitant, why she even felt the need to ask.

That was the kind of man he was. Elektra used to worry that his big heart, his behavior as Daredevil, would someday get him killed. Though he claimed otherwise, at his core, Matt had too much faith in people. Elektra couldn't understand where he got it from and, shameful or not, it used to irk her sometimes, his continual belief in people and goodness and the world in general. She no longer worried about losing him to Daredevil, because Daredevil was gone, along with much of the faith Elektra could never understand. He was the same but different, fundamentally changed by the monsters of the Hand. She wanted that faith back, she wanted the man she fell in love with, even knowing that such a thing wasn't possible. He couldn't recover from that and emerge exactly the same, it just wasn't feasible.

Ignoring his faith or lack thereof, Elektra got nervous the rare moments he brought up her old line of work. In the back of her mind, she'd always felt that they'd cheated fate, that their relationship shouldn't exist. The foundations of it, the events surrounding it, Elektra couldn't help thinking that somehow they weren't supposed to be together like this. Not that she didn't love him, didn't want her happy ending with him and Abby, she just couldn't let herself believe in it. All the trials and tribulations of the last two years seemed to prove that the universe was against them, that they were living on borrowed time. She'd lose him again, like she almost lost him tonight, or he'd wise up one of those times they talked about her list of murder victims. He'd push for details, maybe out of some morbid curiosity, and then he'd realize that being with her was against everything he stood for, that he was a better person and that she was damaged beyond repair. Distantly, she remembered him asking if she was happy, weeks ago when they'd gone dancing together. She'd deflected of course, what else was she going to do? Tell him that she missed it still? Tell him there was a sick adrenaline rush that came only from chasing a victim and watching them die? She'd tell him that and then she'd lose him again because he was too good a person for her.

Her unproductive musings were cut short by a soft buzzing noise. Spying her cell phone on the dresser, Elektra flipped it open, dropping lightly to the floor in front of the fireplace. "Foggy."

"Thank God. Look, Elektra, I know I don't normally ask that many questions about…whatever it is you and Matt get yourselves into but-"

"I know, I know. Do you have some time?"

"Do you know how long a flight to Europe takes? Anyway, I think…I think the blonde is busy."

His tone made her frown in concern. "What's the matter?"

"I uh, I think she's doing things with the copilot. She's been in the cockpit for awhile now and-"

"Just," Elektra cut in, "just don't tell me." She'd harbored suspicions for years that Garrett had a minor sex addiction, so it would make sense that his little girlfriend be similar in that regard.

For the next twenty minutes, she told Foggy bits of what was happening and some of what had happened. She skipped over certain details, in the interests of maintaining her composure When she'd finished, he seemed overloaded with information and Elektra wondered if the government girlfriend had drugged him again.

"So…Kingpin wants…?"

"Aside from Matt and I dead, the Treasure."

"And we're not talking about Abby?"

"Not anymore. It…a new girl comes along every ten years, give or take."

"But…Abby could still beat me up, right? I mean it's not like her…Treasure powers are gone?"

"No," Elektra replied, cringing at the wording.

"Good, that's good. And the new kid is…?"

"Safe."

"With you."

"For now."

"And…she's the niece of your…work friend?"

"We knew some of the same people," Elektra hedged. His tone suggested that Foggy knew more than he was letting on about herself and Garrett, but Elektra chose not to notice.

"And this work friend, _his _work friend is the one who…?"

"She's trustworthy." The brunette repeated Garrett's sentiments from earlier that night and hoped like hell she wasn't lying.

"Right. You see, this is why I don't ask questions. Is Matt there?"

Elektra tensed, swallowing hard. "He's…he can't talk right now."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't sound that way. What happened?"

"Nothing," she repeated. It was difficult speaking past the giant lump in her throat.

"Is he hurt?"

"No."

"Are you?"

"No," she lied.

"E, you…you don't sound like nothing's wrong. We're friends, and I'm a very scared friend at the moment so please-"

"Matt tried to kill himself."

The silence that followed was sickeningly heavy and sickeningly long. "What?" the lawyer finally whispered.

"He…Abby had a gun-"

"Abby has guns now?" Foggy asked before returning to the main topic. "E, Matt wouldn't-"

"He did."

"But…he's Matt. Matt wouldn't-"

She gave him the abridged version. The audio file, its effect on Matt, the fallout. When she was done, Foggy's voice had taken on a desperate edge.

"But…he fired into the wall, right? I mean he didn't actually-"

"He didn't shoot himself," Elektra agreed quietly. As much as she kept reminding herself of that, it didn't do much in the way of comfort.

"Jesus," said Foggy in a shocked whisper. "E, is he…are you guys-"

"We're fine," she interrupted, clearing her throat unobtrusively as possible. Her eyes were wet as she stared into the fire. "Listen, I'm sorry about this, about everything. We should've gotten in touch with you sooner, but-"

"No, you don't need to apologize for what Fisk is doing. But E-"

"I have to go," she lied. "Bad reception here, my phone uses twice the battery. We'll…we'll make this up to you. When things cool down, we'll find a way to fix this." Another long silence. "Foggy?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here. Elektra-"

"You'll be safe, we'll talk soon."

* * *

Elektra hanging up on him was hardly surprising. The strain in her voice though, what she'd said to him…

Foggy blinked hard, gripping the armrest for dear life. He wanted to ask the lunatic woman for that drink, but she was still up front in the cockpit. Judging by the noises, she'd be done soon enough.

Matt. Suicide. Even though he hadn't…he wasn't really Matt at the time and he hadn't actually tried to…

"Jesus," Foggy whispered, head falling against the seat in front of him as he rubbed his eyes hard. "Jesus."

'When things cooled down', Elektra said. Jesus Christ.

"_Matt, where's the card?"_

"_What card?"his partner asked, distracted by the case briefs he was reading._

"_The _card,_" Foggy repeated, leaning forward in his desk chair. "The platinum."_

"_I took it," Matt replied, running his fingers over the Braille dots._

"_You took it? You took my platinum credit card?" Mouth hanging open, Foggy grabbed a plush ball off his desk and lobbed it at Matt's head._

_The blind man caught it without looking up. "No, I reclaimed _my _platinum credit card, which I borrowed you three months ago." Pausing from his reading, Matt threw the ball hard across their pitifully small office._

_The toy smacked him in the forehead and Foggy had to scramble to catch it before it fell under the desk. "When was this?"_

"_Three months ago," Matt repeated slowly._

"_No, I mean-"_

"_You borrowed it to take Liz-something to dinner. The one with the hairspray."_

"_Oh yeah," Foggy replied, a fond smile spreading across his lips. "I liked Liz."_

"_Did you like the can of hairspray she applied on a daily basis?"_

"_Shut up," said Foggy, tossing the ball back to Matt. "So what did you get me?"_

"_Excuse me?" Matt said, absently catching the ball a second time._

"_What did you need the card for?"_

_The taller man shrugged, faking absorption in his case files. "Our client's going to be here in five minutes."_

"_Come on, counselor, stop avoiding the question."_

"_Stop badgering the witness," Matt countered, throwing the toy at Foggy's nose._

_He caught it this time, but only just. "Matt."_

"_I had the statements moved to your place. You can have it back and I won't be getting your bills anymore."_

_Foggy's eyes went wide, a surprised grin forming as his eyebrows climbed skyward. "You don't want E to know what you bought."_

"_Are you actually going to familiarize yourself with this case or is this going to be another instance of smile and nod while I do the work?"_

"_Are you having an affair?" Foggy joked._

"_Yes, that's what I'm doing, I'm having an affair."_

_Karen Page entered the room, a steaming pot in her hand. "Coffee?" she asked pleasantly._

_Foggy nudged the cup on his desk. "Matt's having an affair."_

"_That's nice," the secretary replied, pouring coffee for her boss. "Does Matt want coffee?"_

"_Matt's fine, thank you," the blind man answered, thoroughly exasperated._

"_So you're having an affair?"_

"_Apparently."_

"_Hmmm," Karen murmured, looking back and forth between the two men. "I've had suspicions for years, after you guys went to that dinner thing together."_

_Matt burst out laughing while Foggy's cheeks turned an impressive shade of crimson. "It was a bar association dinner, we were required to go together."_

"_And I got plenty of calls the next day about how cute you looked together."_

"_She's fired. You're fired. Matt, I'm firing Karen."_

"_That's nice," Matt chuckled._

"_But who'll make the coffee?" Karen asked, flashing white teeth._

_A bell sounded from downstairs, signaling the arrival of their newest client. 'Ms. Page," Foggy muttered. "Please go downstairs and do your job. Don't send him in right away."_

"_Whatever you say, Mr. Nelson. Winking, the blonde left the office, voice carrying as she announced that the lawyers would be a few minutes._

"_I love Karen," Foggy declared, a wishful glint in his eye._

"_I know," Matt acknowledged. "We shouldn't keep him waiting."_

"_Sure we should, that's what real lawyers do. They waste people's time and charge by the hour. What did you put on the card?"_

"_Do you have any sort of life of your own?"_

"_Yeah, but it's not nearly as interesting as yours."_

"_Be thankful."_

"_Matt, who's your best friend that covers for you every day of his very uninteresting life?"_

_Trying not to smile, Matt walked to his friend's desk, removing a black velvet box from his pocket. He opened it long enough for Foggy to glimpse the ring inside, snapping it closed seconds later. "Curiosity satisfied?"_

_Foggy gaped in disbelief. "Are you serious?"_

"_Check your credit card statement next month."_

"_You…Matt, that's great!"_

_The lawyer tilted his head sideways, gesturing for him to go on. "But?"_

"_But nothing, this is amazing? Can I bring Karen to the wedding?"_

"_Foggy, I haven't even asked her yet. And tell me what else you're thinking."_

_The lawyer waved a hand in dismissal. "Nothing, I'm just surprised. You guys have been together for months and I just assumed that if you were going to do this…"_

_Sighing, Matt ran a hand through spiky hair. "Truth? I would've married her five years ago if things had been different. And then she came back and Abby…we were too busy trying to figure out life for me to think of asking."_

"_So why now?"_

"_Because she's still here, because I finally feel like I can make her happy. And I think there's a slight possibility that she might actually say yes."_

_Foggy nodded understandingly. "And Daredevil?"_

_Matt sighed again. "It's not something I enjoy doing. I didn't have anything else in my life and-"_

_"--and now you do. Look, if anyone deserves to be happy it's you. The Kitchen can learn to fend for itself again."_

_The blind man shrugged, looking mildly uneasy. Then he fingered the box in his pocket and a boyish smile fell across his face._

_Foggy returned the grin, thrilled to see his friend so happy. "So when's the big night?"_

_The lawyer shook his head, frowning slightly. "I don't know. Fisk has been watching us, we'll probably have to send Abby to the mountains at some point. Once Kingpin is out of the picture and things have cooled down."_

_Foggy nodded again, absolutely jubilant. "_Can _I bring Karen to the wedding?"_

"_Can I crash on your couch if she shoots me down?"_

"_She won't, but sure."_

"_Then you can bring Karen. If you do me one more favor."_

"_Name it."_

"_Be my best man."_

_Foggy's eyes would've gone wider if such a thing were physically possible. Matt smirked in amusement, enjoying his friend's speechlessness. "It's between you and that homeless guy who sits near the courthouse."_

_Shaking his head, Foggy walked around his desk, clapping the other man's shoulder. "I'd be honored. Congratulations."_

"_On what? I can't even ask her until this Fisk thing is handled and who knows if she'll say yes?"_

"_Aren't you supposed to be the optimistic one? You love her, she loves you. And like I said, you two are due a little happiness. It'll work out."_

"_Thanks," Matt replied, letting himself be pulled into a one-armed hug._

"_Any time."_

_Karen chose that moment to reenter the room, one eyebrow going up as she took in the scene. "Should I tell Mr. Sancroft that you two are busy having your affair?"_

"_It's a man-hug," Foggy said defensively, backing away from his friend. "Men are allowed occasional man-hugs."_

"_Hmm. I'll go tell him you're busy with your man-hug."_

'When things cooled down,' Elektra said. When things cooled down, Matt was going to ask E to marry him. Days later, Matt was apparently killed outside their office. Foggy had thought of telling Elektra about the ring, but doing so felt more cruel than anything else. Then Matt had come back, and Foggy hesitantly brought up the subject when they were relaxing in E's family home.

"_Things are different now," Matt had explained tonelessly while they stood together on the beach._

"_Yeah, but Matt-"_

"_I was going to ask her because I thought I had myself together enough to make it work. That's not how it is anymore."_

"_Maybe not right this second, but you could still-"_

"_Some people don't get to be happy, Foggy."_

"God, Matt," Foggy muttered to the empty plane cabin, wondering how things could've gotten so irrevocably screwed up.

* * *

Garrett drove on autopilot, looking without seeing. Abby and Rachel were both in the backseat, the latter leaning into the older girl's shoulder as she slept. Abby was mindlessly stroking the child's arm, staring out the window in silence.

"You guys okay back there?" Garrett asked, watching them through the rearview mirror.

"Fine," Abby replied. "She's kind of drooling on me," the teen joked, though she didn't have the energy to make it sound funny.

Garrett gripped the wheel tighter, gnawing on the bruised lip E gave him in the bathroom. "Sign of affection," he muttered, unconsciously pressing the accelerator.

_He arrived Christmas Eve sporting a leather jacket and a holstered gun. The back door was open and Garrett walked in to the sound of a truly awful holiday song coming from the living room speakers. Tossing his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair, he made sure the weapon was concealed under his shirt before entering the next room. "Don't rush up to give me the welcome treatment."_

_Jimmy Pierce, taller than his brother and with broader shoulders, descended the stairs to the upper floor, looking agitated. "You're late."_

"_Merry Christmas to you, too. What in fuck's name am I listening to?"_

_Jimmy shrugged. "Dominick The Italian Christmas Donkey."_

"_Why?"_

"_Lena likes it."_

"_You did tell Lena that we're not Italian?"_

"_Don't be a prick," the older man warned. _

"_Learned from the best, didn't I? Happy Cuanza," Garrett added, throwing the gun from his shirt onto the coffee table._

"_You must've gone to a lot of trouble wrapping this so nicely," Jimmy mocked, coming over to study the gift. Examining the firearm, his eyes slowly widened in appreciation. "Is this-?"_

"_Genuine 1936 Tokarev pistol, used by the Soviets in the war. It's a Commie gun, but whatever works for you."_

"_It's history, Garrett, something you never had any appreciation for."_

"_Not disputing the indisputable. Thanks for the gift card; it was indescribably thoughtful."_

_Crossing to a nearby cabinet, Jimmy pulled a key from his pocket and opened it up. Antique firearms from various countries were displayed inside, and Jimmy stashed the Russian pistol alongside them. Returning to his brother, Jimmy crossed his arms and sneered. "Some people showed up here looking for you. Government people."_

"_I haven't paid taxes since 1996."_

"_Don't smart off to me, Garrett. I told them you were living in Guatemala in a shack somewhere. Happy Hanukah."_

_Garrett went pale, though the rest of his demeanor remained indifferent. "Guatemala, nice detail. In case you forgot this during your haze of familial bliss, I'm not ten years old, and you're not Dad."_

"_Somebody's got to keep your ass out of trouble. You don't think I know what you got into? Grapevine says that you turned federal on me. It also says that you got blown up in Guatemala right before the Fourth of July."_

_Rolling his eyes, Garrett spread his arms wide, doing a full turn on the spot. "Interesting, I seem to be not blown to pieces. Grapevine is rotting out, Jim, because I spent Independence Day with a pack of roman candles and a very lovely woman named Sparkle."_

"_Did you now?"_

_Garrett nodded with false enthusiasm. "Real name's Irene. She doesn't look much like an Irene. The night work is just until she can pay for beauty school."_

_Stepping forward, Jimmy clasped his brother's shoulders in an iron grip. "You can't keep this up. You can't promise yourself to something and then take off just to piss off your boss."_

"_Save the career advice for when the kid gets older," Garrett snapped, backing out of his brother's reach. "You don't know anything about anything, so don't pretend otherwise."_

"_My kid is not going to be put in danger because of your fuck-up. You send the government to my door, you-"_

"_Why am I here, Jimmy? You don't need a holiday to map out my flaws for me, so why the hell am I here?"_

"_Don't bitch. You wanted me to play baseball with you in the front yard? You know that couldn't happen." The rough lines of his face softened slightly, his tone changing as well. "You're here because it's Christmas, and we need to talk about something."_

"_Can't wait."_

"_Why did you bother showing up if all you're going to do is insult Lena and whine about your lousy childhood?"_

"_I haven't insulted Lena since the last time I saw her. And I came because the grapevine says Rachel's a beautiful kid. Grapevine also says that she looks a lot like you. Obviously a contradictory statement, so I came to investigate. What time's dinner?"_

_Jimmy ignored him, looking at a point just over his shoulder. "Sweetheart, look who finally decided to show up."_

_Garrett turned to face Lena Vance as she came down the stairs. The fake smile he'd glued on faltered slightly as he looked her over. Lena was thinner than last time (granted she'd been knocked up then), her short blonde hair was dry and limp, and her expression was one of total exhaustion. Grinning wider as she approached, Garrett placed a quick kiss to her cheek, squeezing her hands briefly. "Hey, Lena. Long time no see."_

"_Yeah, Garrett," she replied, smoothing her hands down the black slacks she wore. The red sweater hung loose on her frame. "We missed you at the hospital."_

"_Don't exaggerate," he said pleasantly. "Your baby-daddy here neglected to tell me the kid was making her entrance."_

"_I called you after," Jimmy stated, rubbing his hand on Lena's back._

"_My phone was off, work thing."_

"_For three weeks straight?"_

"_Long work thing."_

"_How are you, Garrett?" Lena asked, sounding rather bored._

"_Jimmy, I don't know how you did it, this woman is the most congenial person I have ever met. I'm good, Lena. Excluding the fact that I'm having fantasies about killing this stupid Christmas donkey. This must be the music they listen to in hell."_

"_And you wonder why we didn't invite you for Thanksgiving," said Jimmy, glaring at his brother._

"_Is there a Thanksgiving donkey too? How about Easter? Is there a whole confederation of holiday asses? And don't fret over Thanksgiving; I spent it with a very lovely woman named Roxy."_

"_She working through beauty school too?"_

"_No, she's just a whore. And a damn good one too. Are there Christmas cookies?"_

"_You seem busy with all these work things," Jimmy pressed. "What exactly have you been doing?"_

"_Since leaving the business and staining the family name? Don't you know that already, Jimmy?"_

"_Oh come on, no career changes, no new jobs?"_

"_I've been living with a secret order of samurai-type people up in the mountains," Garrett deadpanned. "You?"_

"_Something similar," the older man replied._

"_Fascinating. Lena, when do I get to see the newest member of the Pierce clan?"_

"_Vance," she corrected tonelessly._

"_Sorry?"_

"_Rachel's got my name."_

_Glancing at his brother, Garrett rocked back on his heels. "Hmmm, interesting. So where is she?"_

"_You can see her after dinner."_

"_Why not now?"_

"_She's sleeping."_

_Just then, a loud cry filtered down from the nursery. "The Christmas donkey must be hurting her ears," Garrett mused. "Either that or she can't wait to meet her uncle."_

_Scowling, Lena turned away from the men, heading up the stairs._

"_Baby," Jimmy protested, "Let me-"_

"_I've got it," she snapped._

"_Bring her down here, the three of us can-"_

"_I've got it, Jimmy!" she exclaimed, entering the baby's room and shutting the door._

_Left alone, the Pierce brothers shared a quick look. "She's a keeper, that one," Garrett said finally._

"_Shut up, smartass."_

"_Gladly. Where do you hide the Christmas cookies?"_

_Lena wouldn't let him see the girl for another two hours. Eventually, she handed Rachel off to her father, grabbed the cordless phone and locked herself in the master bedroom. _

"_She's been a little moody. Delivered a month early and now she's got this postpartum depression thing going," Jimmy explained, seeming genuinely apologetic for her behavior._

"_Is it common to have postpartum depression before you get knocked up?" Garrett asked grinning at the baby in Jimmy's arms. Rachel's tiny Christmas dress was the same shade as her mom's sweater._

"_Shut it, bro," Jimmy warned, leaning back against the couch. "She's the mother of my child."_

"_All I'm saying is that she's been that way since day one," Garrett replied, carefully taking his niece from the other man. Her response was to take Garrett's thumb into her mouth for use as a pacifier. "She's drooling on me," Garrett declared, apparently thrilled by this._

"_Take it as a sign of affection," Jimmy advised, smiling softly at the look of rapture in Garrett's eyes._

"_My God," he said quietly. "Jimmy, she's great. She's amazing."_

"_That she is. Listen, we need to have a talk."_

"_I'm busy," Garrett replied, still transfixed by the kid he was holding._

_Jimmy glanced towards the ceiling, wondering how much longer he had before Lena finished speaking with her family. "I want you to move back here. I can't run things on my own anymore and Dad would've wanted us working together."_

_The younger man looked up at that, his smile dimming. "Guns aren't my thing, Jimmy."_

"_Uh huh. And you've also never touched a drink in your life."_

"Selling _guns," he amended. "Let's not get into this; we both know what'll happen."_

"_So we fight. We're brothers, that's how it works. Besides, don't you want to see your niece more than twice a year?"_

"_Don't use your offspring to commit emotional blackmail," Garrett answered, shifting his eyes back to Rachel._

"_Think about it."_

"_I thought I was a health risk to this big happy family thing you've got going?"_

"_They're off your trail for now, I made sure of that."_

"_Why am I not reassured?"_

"_I'm going to ask Lena to marry me; I need someone to hold the ring._

_Garrett went still. Rachel gurgled happily. The indistinct murmur of Lena's flat voice could be heard from upstairs. Keeping his eyes on Rachel for a long moment, Garrett finally looked at his brother. "Are you screwing with me?"_

"_I'm proposing at midnight on New Year's."_

"Why_?"_

"_Why does anyone get married?"_

"_Passive aggressive neurosis."_

"_The other reason."_

"_Free toaster ovens."_

"_Because I want to, because I love her."_

"Why_?" Garrett repeated. "Jesus Christ man, what _is _this?"_

_Eyes narrowed, Jimmy quickly transferred Rachel back to his own arms. "I don't need a rehash of your opinion on my-"_

"—_your what? The waitress you fucked? Jimmy, she treats you like shit, she treats Rachel worse than that."_

"_And after three hours with them, you're qualified to make that assessment."_

"_She slept with you because you tip well. She stayed with you because you like throwing money around. She probably stopped taking her pills so you'd do exactly what you're doing."_

"_I spent Thanksgiving with my family; you spent it with a call girl."_

"_At least I'm acknowledging it. I don't know how she's got you so brainwashed, but-"_

"She _is Rachel's mother. People change, they grow up, they want different things."_

"_You want a family? Get it with someone who gives a shit because I'm telling you right now, she'll be gone within the year. She'll say yes because she's a waitress who got swept away into a four bedroom house with lots of shiny new stuff. She'll say yes, but then she'll realize that you actually expect something from her, that she might actually have to put up an effort."_

"_Keep your voice down," Jimmy growled. The look on his face was more than enough to shut his brother up. "Lena loves our kid, Lena loves me. Now I want to be happy. I'd like it if we could try fixing things between us. I'd like it if you'd stand next to me when I marry her. We should be a family again, all four of us. Come back to town and work with me on a trial basis, see Rachel as much as you can. Or you can continue being a whiney little bastard and wait for the feds to catch up with you."_

"_Happiness, is that what you want? Well some people don't get that."_

"_The past is the past, Garrett. You're not ten years old anymore, so stop acting like it. _

_Garrett remained silent, staring fixedly at his niece. His eyes were still locked on her when he next spoke. "Congratulations," he said tonelessly. There was an open beer on the table in front of him, which he reached for and raised in a mock toast. "To the future," he said loudly, raising the bottle to his lips. "Hope you like the gun, took me forever to find. We'll make it a combination Christmas-engagement present."_

* * *

Elektra sat by the fire long after her conversation with Foggy ended. Efforts at meditating were a complete failure because her mind simply wouldn't stay still. Her shoulder hurt like seven hells and she focused on that while she tried not to think.

Tried not to think about the sound of the gun.

Tried not to think about Matt's funeral that hadn't really been Matt's funeral.

Tried not to think about Stick's Kimagure lectures, about how the magic only worked if the deceased wanted to come back.

In the midst of her not-thinking, Elektra distantly recognized the creak of a door. Seconds later, Matt dropped to one knee at her side, hesitantly placing his hand on her arm. Elektra shivered, but took no other action. She stared at the fire, ignoring the blank pools trying to focus on her.

Silently, Matt moved his fingers up her arm, stopping when he reached the injured shoulder. "You want something for this?" he asked softly.

Elektra blinked, realizing for the first time that she was crying again. It wasn't from the pain and they both knew that, but she appreciated the question. "It's not bad," she replied. In comparison to everything else, the shoulder was inconsequential. Either way, there was nothing to be done for it.

Nodding to himself, Matt ran the tips of his fingers over the wound, noting her sharp intake of breath and the flinch nobody else could've picked up on. "Let me check it."

"It's fine."

He nodded again, inspecting the stitches anyway. Elektra jerked minutely when he hit particularly bad areas. She felt like pulling away, but didn't.

"You told Foggy," Matt stated.

Looking at him for the first time, Elektra searched for any hints of anger or accusation, finding none. His voice was the same low murmur he'd been using, his expression one of tender concern as he continued checking the injury. "I told Foggy," she confirmed cautiously.

"That's good, he deserves to know." Satisfied the wound was healing properly, Matt sat back, shifting so he too was looking towards the fire. When he spoke again, Elektra was shocked to hear the hint of a smile in his voice. "You shouldn't have let him tell the karaoke story."

For a moment, she had no inkling of what he was talking about. Then she looked at his face and it struck her. If she hadn't been thinking about the event minutes earlier, Elektra never would've gotten the reference. But that wasn't possible. "What are you talking about?"

"The funeral," Matt replied evenly. "I understand he was trying to lighten things up, but letting him tell the karaoke story during my eulogy? Not one of my best memories from college," he joked.

Elektra's throat and chest constricted painfully. "Foggy handled most of it himself. He told you about that?"

"Not a word. I heard him."

Elektra could do nothing but stare for the longest of moments. "You couldn't have," she finally stated, unable to believe what he was implying.

"It's okay," he murmured, brushing his hand over her knee and taking it away again. "I wasn't right there, just a few blocks away. That's what it felt like anyway, from how loud the voices were." Elektra gasped almost inaudibly and Matt returned to drawing soothing patterns on her kneecap. "It's okay. They didn't move me to…wherever I ended up until later. I was just outside the city for the first couple days. They kept telling me I was dead, that you weren't…that nobody was looking for me. I knew they weren't lying, obviously but I told them differently. At some point I got knocked out, they moved me close enough to hear everything, then I was out again and when I woke up, I couldn't hear anything anymore. They'd soundproofed the walls, air smelt like nothing. I used to think it'd be nice; not having to climb into a depravation tank to escape the noise, but then when I couldn't hear…couldn't control it. I don't know, E, for the first time in my life, I felt like a normal blind man."

Elektra couldn't speak, _wouldn't_, even if she could. He was relating all this with an air of calm detachment, but she could feel the tension coming off him.

"They'd gotten in some good hits when they took me. There's a stab wound, by my ribs I think? I'd sit in this room, the only sense I had left was touch, so I'd sit there alone until one or two of them came in again. And every time they did, it was overload. They spaced things out enough so that it was always a shock, going from hearing nothing to having these guys come in and listening to the blood moving through their systems. It was like before, in the hospital when I was a kid. And then whatever injuries I had from fighting them that first time, they'd reopen them. The rib scar wouldn't have been so bad otherwise.

"The…the man on the file, he wasn't there in the beginning. I don't know when he showed up exactly, but it was after they broke my arms. I guess they wanted me physically worn down before they got to the good part. You know some of this already. He was telling me that you didn't…that you couldn't love me, that everything from muggings to terrorism was somehow my fault. And after a certain amount of time, I just started believing him. I was still fighting it though, so he'd call the guards in sometimes and go back to the old way of doing things."

He paused there, sliding his hand into hers. Elektra wasn't sure which of them he did this for, but she was grateful for the contact. It grounded her, kept her in the here and now instead of imagining all the things she wanted to do to those nameless Hand members.

With his free hand, Matt brushed a scar by his chin, one she'd asked about earlier. "I don't remember how this happened. I was delusional by then, _he _was basically in control, I just remember that I thought it was Dad. All I have are memories of him, and they tainted those, too. I have to work, actually make an effort, to remember that my Dad didn't hit me. I have these images of what he looked like from before the accident, and I know those are real. And then I see him standing over me with a belt, and the delusions or hallucinations or whatever they were are so ingrained in me that I have to work not to remember my father as a guy who beat his son. And..."

Matt trailed off, his grip on her hand tightening. Numbly, Elektra ran her thumb over his fingers. A year of knowing next-to-nothing about his captivity and now he was explaining all of this as if it were nothing, as if he were discussing the outcome of a baseball game.

"It wasn't always perfect with you," he continued. "Sometimes they'd give me that stupid, care-free fantasy I told you about, and sometimes it would be you hurting me, telling me how much I'd screwed up."

He wasn't saying it, but somehow Elektra knew. They'd taken his memories from seven years ago, when she'd tried to kill him, and made them a thousand time worse. More tears threatened and Elektra didn't try stopping them.

"Other times it would be you and Bullseye."A disgusted grimace came across his face and she felt him tense further.

"What aren't you saying?" Elektra asked softly, though she honestly didn't want to know.

"They…I had to listen to things between you and him."

"Things?" she prodded, wishing she could somehow avoid this.

"He raped you." Shaking his head, Matt released her hand and rubbed his eyes hard. "He didn't, I know that, but they made it sound…I couldn't tell the difference after awhile."

Elektra wanted to throw up. She remembered being trapped on her own sword, Bullseye catching the edge of her lip in a repulsive kiss before throwing her to the building below. Seven years later and it still appalled her, made her feel violated.

"God," said Matt with a hint of dry humor. "I honestly thought I was a mess before, but this," he chuckled, "this is just on a whole other level."

"You didn't think it was normal to go around in a red devil costume?" It was a weak attempt at a joke, not her usual strategy, but seven years ago, before everything, she'd been more willing to laugh. And for some reason, all she wanted now was for things to be as they were then, when the two of them first met. For the briefest of moments, they'd been two people falling in love so fast. There'd been so much hope then…

Frowning, Matt rested his hand on her knee again, drawing lazy patterns. "What do you mean red?"

Elektra, who'd been leaning into his arm, froze on hearing the confusion in his voice.

"I thought the costume was yellow."

Sitting up straight, Elektra looked him hard in the face. Tilting his head sideways, he appeared adorably puzzled. He didn't seem like he was joking, but there was absolutely no way…

Suddenly, his lips curved into that mischievous half-grin and he burst into quiet laughter. "I had you on that one. I don't think that's ever happened before."

Elektra laughed too, feeling his arm slide around her waist. They chuckled together, the noise of it somehow wrong after what had transpired in the last few hours. Distantly, she remembered Garrett's comment about things being funnier during times of stress/

Sobering, Matt pulled back from her, both arms encircling her taut stomach. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, absently stroking her sides. "With the Hand, before I…before I lost control, I'd sit there thinking about how I was never going to see you again. And I told myself that if I ever made it back…" He paused uncomfortably, swallowing hard. "It was never supposed to be like this. All I ever wanted to do was to make you happy."

"I know," Elektra replied, trembling in spite of the fire. More tears. God, there were never enough tears for them. She wasn't sure how it started, but was fairly confident that she initiated what happened next.

"E," he said softly, trying to talk past the lips covering his. "E-"

She asked him to stop talking, trailing her mouth over his throat while freeing him of his shirt. Elektra couldn't say why she was doing this, especially since she hadn't yet forgiven him for scaring ten years off her life. But she would, because that's all they ever seemed to do, they hurt each other and forgave each other and repeated the process.

"Hey," Matt whispered, one hand hovering over her breast while the other became tangled in her hair. "You sure?"

She forced him to stand up with her, pulling on the belt loops of his jeans. Elektra recognized that this couldn't be entirely healthy, given the circumstances. She was still angry and she was picturing Matt with that gun, along with everything else he'd told her. The horrifying part was that he hadn't even skimmed the surface and she knew that, but she couldn't hear any more tonight and doubted that he felt like sharing.

Mouth crushed against his, Elektra ran her hands up his bare torso, finding the long scar by his ribcage. She whimpered and Matt froze, thinking it had something to do with her shoulder. "You okay?"

She wasn't, but told him the opposite. He pretended to believe her, easily carrying her the short distance to the bed. That she let him do this was a mark of the emotional crash Elektra was having. Matt was achingly hesitant in his movements. He had to be aware of her state at the moment and Elektra could only surmise that he was afraid of taking advantage. Then it occurred to her that he might be reliving the things he talked about between her and Bullseye and she felt sick all over again.

What Garrett referred to as 'obligatory make up sex' was anything but. When Matt eased her shirt off, always careful about the shoulder, Elektra decided she was doing this for him. He tried to hide it, but telling her what he had had drained him. She was simply comforting him in the most basic, instinctual way. When he went further, still asking if she was okay, if she wanted this, Elektra admitted that she was doing this for her. It was like before, when they first left the Compound after Matt's recovery. She'd nearly lost him and she needed to know that he was here. Wasn't there a statistic about couples making love after funerals?

When they were both close, when Matt told her again and again and again that he loved her and he was sorry, Elektra decided it might have something to do with the past. They'd made love that first time and it'd been easy and perfect. Maybe she was trying to recapture some of that now, to stop herself from falling apart.

When it was over and she was shaking, covered in a thin layer of perspiration, she decided it didn't matter. They probably shouldn't have done it, but the list of things they shouldn't have done was long enough to circle the globe twice over. It was a bad idea to do this with so much between them, but she didn't regret it. Probably, it'd been a bad idea to sleep with him before attempting a first date, but she didn't regret that either.

They lay together for awhile, Elektra half on top of him while Matt pressed occasional kisses to her lips and forehead. Then he told her that the others would be back soon, he could hear the truck getting closer. They showered together in the downstairs bathroom, the one without the bullet hole. Matt's excuse, as it had been since they got here, was that it would be easier on her shoulder if he helped with any areas she couldn't reach. They kept it quick, avoiding distractions. Matt guessed ten minutes before Garrett arrived with the girls. As they left the bathroom, Elektra recalled Garrett's comment about the condoms and mentally rolled her eyes.

The others got in nine minutes later. Elektra met them downstairs while Matt hid in their bedroom and pretended not to exist. Garrett was carrying Rachel until she awoke long enough to realize where they were and squirm out of his arms. Garrett told her to get ready for bed for the second time that night and reminded her to use the downstairs bathroom. Abby glanced tiredly at Elektra, her eyes suspiciously bright. Muttering a good night, she disappeared up the stairs before Elektra could speak, leaving her and Garrett by themselves.

"You got laid," he announced flatly, his own eyes looking rather clouded.

Elektra scowled, trying to figure out what was going on with him. He didn't look or sound drunk, and he didn't look or sound like he had when popping Vicodin, but something was definitely off. "This contact of yours, you're sure—"

"She'll keep your friend alive," he interrupted. "Trust me."

She didn't, but nodded anyway.

"Is Murdock safe, Elektra? Can I have him around Rachel without-"

"Yes," she replied simply, not asking for his trust.

"Fine," Garrett muttered, passing her on his way up the stairs. "You have a hickey on your neck," he added, smirking when she actually blushed.

After finding nothing in the way of a love bite on her skin, Elektra vowed to kill Garrett at a later date and returned to Matt.

* * *

"I don't want to go to sleep, I'm not tired."

Standing over his niece's bed, Garrett chuckled sarcastically as he tucked the covers over her. "It's 3:00 in the morning. Until tonight you probably didn't know there _was _a 3:00 in the morning."

"Yes I did," Rachel muttered defensively, sticking her tongue out at him. "Uncle Garrett, can you stay here tonight?"

Sighing, Garrett sat down at the edge of the bed, stroking blonde hair out of Rachel's eyes. Reaching towards the nightstand, he switched off the single lamp illuminating the room. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep."

Nodding the girl turned on her side to face him. "Uncle Garrett?"

"Don't ask for another story, kid. I ran out of G rated stories a long time ago."

"It's not that. I didn't mean to say I hated you. I don't even know why I said it, but the man said-"

"Rachel," he soothed, seeing that she was close to tears. "I'm not mad. I wasn't before, I'm not now, so don't worry. What did the man say, who do you mean?"

"I don't know," she replied after a long silence.

"I see. Is that you don't know you don't remember, or you don't know you won't tell me?"

Rachel sniffled, curling up tighter under the blanket.

"Okay. It doesn't matter right now. Sleep, we'll have plenty of time to sort it out." Leaning forward on the mattress, Garrett engulfed the child in a warm hug, finding it hard to keep his emotions in check. "I love you. Lots. Okay?"

"Love you, too," she replied, pulling back to look at him. "Uncle Garrett, if Daddy told me not to say something to you…" The girl gave up, shaking her head in frustration.

"Rachel, if you want to tell me something, then do it. Daddy's…Daddy's not here anymore and if you think I need to know-"

"But I'm not sure!" Rachel exclaimed tremulously. "Abby said it wasn't going to happen, but…"

"Rach, just tell me," he implored. "Tell me what it is."

"Daddy," she began before changing her mind. "The scary man with the bull's eye on his forehead..I heard him and Daddy talking the last time he came over. They said you were going to die."

* * *

Maya couldn't believe what a colossal disaster this night had become. Nelson had escaped, probably minutes before she'd arrived. But how had he known, who could have helped him? Wilson was angry with her. He'd tried to hide it, but she could see it in his eyes. Maya offered several alternate plans of action, but Wilson would have none of it, curtly instructing her to go home. She'd spent the last few hours at a 24 hour gym, relentlessly abusing the punching bags. She had her own equipment of course, bur sitting alone in her apartment somehow made her failure more real.

Unlocking her apartment, Maya entered the small penthouse, shutting the door behind her. As she was about to turn around, a small displacement of air caught her attention. Spinning hard and fast, Maya found that she wasn't alone. Sitting at her kitchen table, casually munching from a jar of cashews, the man offered her a nod. A quick glance at the door revealed a FiskCorp company pen, its tip embedded centimeters away from her neck.

The man with a branded forehead and an alligator coat rose from the table, ambling towards her. If Maya could hear, she'd recognize the thick accent as Irish. As it was, the best she could manage was to read his lips.

Bowing slightly, Bullseye wiped bits of salt from his lips. "Honey, you're home."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Surprise, I'm still alive. Sorry for another long wait, and sorry that you guys keep hearing that from me. I blame J.K. Rowling, Kevin Smith, and various other, richer people for distracting me from writing. This chapter contains a lot of back-story, most of which comes from comic book writer David Mack. I took his character and twisted her up a bit for my own purposes, as is usually the case with me. I feel kind of bad giving you this chapter after such a long wait, since I don't really like it as much as the last few. But, I think it's still okay, better than a lot of the other stuff I've thrown at you guys, so please do enjoy. I'll try my hardest to make the next one awesome if you try your hardest to send me some feedback.

* * *

They faced each other, one wary, the other lazily amused. Maya studied the intruder as best she could. The light switch was too far away, it would require her to turn her back. Once the second's worth of shock wore off, she recognized exactly who was in her home, automatically adapting a fighting stance.

"Nice place you got here," said Bullseye, letting his eyes roam over rooms he'd already explored. "Fisk loan you his decorator?"

The apartment was big, but sparsely furnished, all blacks and grays. Large glass windows were everywhere, shining moonlight into the otherwise darkened space. A door at the far side of the room led to a balcony outside. He'd checked that out while he waited, admiring New York from thirty floors up and picturing what a body would look like if it hit the pavement from this height.

"What are you doing here?" Maya asked, moving sideways towards her couch.

"Making a point," he replied. Then he removed three shuriken from his belt and aimed for her head.

The young woman did a series of flips and cartwheels, that would shame an Olympic-level gymnast. She'd watched DVD's of the last four Olympics a few weeks ago, right after she finished the Matrix trilogy. Ducking to the black leather sofa, Maya removed the weapon there, hidden behind an assortment of decorative silver throw pillows.

He'd missed, and this time it hadn't been because of a warning throw. Bullseye very much wanted to kill Maya now. "Fancy," he commented, masking his irritation as he stepped closer. "You know, you remind me of someone."

Further elaboration on his part was halted by the heavy object that collided with his face. Blinking dazedly, Bullseye struggled to understand what had happened. Then he smiled. A club. She'd hit him with a goddamn billy club. "Really?"

She hit him again, watching the blood spill from his mouth. "Don't make me do this."

He laughed, red liquid staining gray carpet. "Don't worry, you won't be doing much of anything soon enough."

Another perfectly executed flip. Landing directly behind him, Maya performed a sweeping kick that sent Bullseye's legs out from under him, holding her club defensively as she stood above him. The last move came from a Jackie Chan movie, though she couldn't remember which.

Bullseye chuckled. This was turning out to be more fun than he'd expected. His eyes were watering slightly, but he ignored that, focusing on the weapon in her hand. It was black, like her hair, like half this apartment, and it reminded Bullseye of _his _billy club. "Think Murdock would be happy you're copying his toy?"

Maya went in for a third attack, but didn't get far. Bullseye caught the club in his own hands, driving it upward and into her jaw. He smiled at the pleasant cracking sound, regaining his footing as she stumbled backward. He took half a second to assess the club further. It was a good weapon, perfect weight and balance. Like Murdock's. This was simpler though, no different settings, no bells and whistles, just an old school fighting stick.

Bullseye's appraisal was cut short when Maya came at him again. This time it was a flying kick from an instructional tape on martial arts. She'd watched it once, three weeks earlier. Bullseye was fast, but he hadn't expected that, hadn't expected so much resistance. Her foot made contact with his forehead, cutting into the target there. As he was driven towards the balcony, Bullseye cursed women and their obsession with high heels.

Maya was on autopilot, letting adrenaline beat out nervousness. She'd never been in a real fight before, not like this. There was the training and the boxing matches yes, and she'd even gone up against Daredevil once, but those things hardly counted. Training was training, the boxing ring was a controlled environment, and she'd cheated with the blind man. This was the real thing, not the fight she'd been expecting or preparing for, but important nonetheless. Life or death battles tended to fall in the important category.

Bullseye was finding this increasingly pleasant. She was good, very good, even managing to knock the club out of his grasp and across the room. He actually had to make an effort with her, albeit a small one..

It was all fists and kicks, speed combining with darkness so that, had there been any witnesses, it would've been impossible for them to break the fight into individual moves. Bullseye though, Bullseye fought with mounting interest, allowing himself to be driven across the room. She'd copied the stick from Murdock, but some of that fancy footwork came from Elektra. The knives weren't there, but the way she moved her body, the way her hands worked… The whole situation was bringing about rare pangs of nostalgia. He missed Elektra, he missed Murdock, despite knowing that he'd see both soon enough. He let it continue until his back was nearly against the balcony doors, then decided he was getting bored of playing this way.

Maya thought she was in control. She thought that her ability to memorize, her endless hours of practice were doing what they were meant to do. She forgot her opponent's identity, forgot his years in the killing business. It was dark and she was on autopilot, and she didn't see the smirk on his lips, didn't realize that it should never be this easy. The other point against her was that she wasn't trying to kill him. It would be enough to incapacitate, find out what was happening here. She wasn't a killer, and she didn't plan on becoming one. Not with him, not tonight. Maya thought she was in control. Then Bullseye got bored, stopped playing, and did what he came to do.

It all happened very fast, and Maya never really knew how she wound up flying through the door to her balcony. There was glass and pain and blood, and then there was chilly night air. As she struggled to her feet, Bullseye strolled over broken glass, thinking briefly about throwing a shard into her neck. But no, that one was old, overused. He chuckled as she stood up. Beautiful black hair was a tangled mess, clothes were in tatters, and blood and glass were everywhere. Still, she held her ground, charging him again. Persistent, just like Elektra. He blocked the attack easily, knocking the air from her lungs with a kick to the chest. She stumbled, back hitting the low barrier between them and open air.

Bullseye had to give her credit, Maya wasn't a quitter. Coughing hard, she made a feeble grab at his coat. He avoided that too, backing out of her reach. Then he changed his mind about the glass. Finding a piece he liked, the hitman threw the good-sized, very sharp fragment into Maya's chest. The wound wasn't deep, he hadn't put in enough force to do real damage, but it was still rather gruesome. Bullseye smirked as, slumped on the ground, Maya viciously removed the glass, throwing it aside. More blood. He shook his head as he moved forward, picturing Natchios's daughter and her attempt to play catch with a knife. Didn't people realize that pulling them out only made it worse? Honestly, what were schools for?

He stepped forward again, looking between the battered woman and the balcony railing.. Bullseye thought about tossing her over, entertaining himself with the idea. But no, that wasn't going to happen. Killing her was unnecessary, and this was on his time, he wasn't being compensated. Strolling to where Maya lay, conscious but barely, Bullseye pushed a strand of bloody hair out of her eyes, placing a brief kiss to her forehead. His lips tasted like copper and he wiped them off on his hand.

"Well," he said, making sure her eyes remained open as he backed away. "I had fun, we should do this again sometime." Another reason not to kill her. Point made, Bullseye left Maya where she was, ambling casually into, then back out of, her penthouse apartment.

* * *

Matt hadn't slept. Despite being physically and mentally trashed, he couldn't let his eyes slip closed. He didn't want the nightmares or the memories or any of it, not anymore. E had tried to stay up with him, but he'd kept his hands moving in her hair and across her back, the pattern of it eventually forcing her to drift off. He'd been more honest with her last night than he had in over a year. He'd held her in his arms and told her things. Holding her made it easier.

"_I don't know how to deal with it," he admitted after they made love. "The guilt, the anger, any of it."_

_He felt her eyes on him, felt her stiffening up. "Find a way," she said raggedly, almost coldly. "Whether I help you to, or you do it yourself, find a way to deal with it."_

"_What if I can't?" _

"_No. You find a way." She paused there, voice going considerably softer. "Find a way because I need you to."_

From her, that was a lot. More than he could expect .

Dawn was breaking as he left the bed, feeling bereft without Elektra holding onto him. If Elektra held on, than he could hold on too, even if he didn't want to. Except now he _did _want to hold on, more than anything in the world. Last night…last night couldn't happen again. Ever.

Not making a sound, Matt dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, reluctantly leaving the sanctuary of Elektra and their temporary bedroom. He made his way down the hallway, listening to Abby in the next room. She'd taken a long time, but an hour ago he'd noted the change in breathing that signaled sleep. He didn't look forward to her waking up. He didn't look forward to Garrett either. The hitman hadn't slept. Matt lay awake and listened to him in Rachel's room, imagining him perched over his niece's bed. Guarding.

Garrett emerged from the girl's room as Matt walked past. Hardly a surprise, but it still made the blind man grimace. Matt couldn't see the hitman's bloodshot eyes, rumpled clothes, and generally run-down appearance, but he didn't have to. Nor did he have to see the other man's expression to know what it revealed.

"Elektra says you're safe," he stated flatly.

"So I heard."

"You think she's biased?"

Matt said nothing.

"I think she's biased. I think she's stupid when it comes to you."

"But?"

"But...she's not an idiot, and she'd kill you herself if you touched the kid." In this case, 'the kid' meant Abby, though the phrase was used interchangeably to describe both of the younger females

"She wouldn't have to."

Garrett made an annoyed sort of noise. "Don't do that again. I'll do it, if it comes to that."

"Thanks."

He shrugged, ignoring the tone. "Better she hates me than you. But she doesn't think it'll come to that point. How about you?"

Second-guessing himself had become second-nature over the past year. It never used to be that way, Matt used to think he was infallible, that _Daredevil _was infallible. Arrogant, that man without fear. Then he'd become the man who feared himself, feared himself to a paralyzing degree. "No," Matt said. "It won't come to that point."

"Even if the Hand buys time for a public service announcement while Abby's watching that show she likes?"

"No." It was hard to admit that the tapes weren't the only factor. Main factor, but not only. It was hard to admit that he'd grown so weary and so damn afraid of his own mind that he'd put a gun to his head seven hours earlier.

Garrett was silent for a long moment. Matt heard him chewing on his lip. "I'm wrong, she wouldn't kill you. She's that biased."

"Is that what it is?"

"Love, bias, same difference this early in the morning. She wouldn't kill you though. Cripple maybe."

Matt disagreed. Abby came first, Abby always came first. If another switch were to flip in his brain, that would be it. He waited for the other man to continue, feeling no need to voice his opinions.

"I would," said Garrett. "No matter what Elektra wanted."

It wasn't a threat, and Matt didn't take it that way. It was information, simple fact, and he couldn't blame the hitman for giving that information. Rachel had become Garrett's responsibility. As Garrett said before, it wasn't the same as Elektra protecting Abby, but close enough. Matt didn't pretend that the bond between Abby and Elektra was weaker due to lack of genetic material, and he held no illusions about what would happen if he put Rachel in danger.

"Thank you. For helping Foggy."

Garrett's pulse jumped inexplicably. "You want to thank me? Try not going ape shit in my house. And keep your hands off my weapons." He backed into Rachel's room, shutting the door before anything else could be said.

Matt was in the bathroom before he could think about it, before there was time to second-guess himself. The others had treated it like a crime scene, no one in or out. Matt ran his fingers over the sink, the wall, the mirror. He lingered at the point of impact, feeling the bullet stuck in the wall. Shaking himself, Matt found cream and a new pack of razors.

"_Fascinating, isn't it Matthew? To know what you really are? I imagine you find it quite educational."_

They'd cut his face with that knife so many times. Last time Matt tried shaving, he couldn't even hold the razor steady. Now, his hands worked automatically, spreading the cream over his face and bringing the razor to his skin.

"_You tried to escape again. Matthew." The blade sliced lightly into his throat._

Matt wanted to stop. Instead, he loosened his grip, reminding himself that a razor wasn't a knife.

"_You aren't listening." The blade cut a leisurely path from his left cheek to his left eye, stopping just before the socket. "Would it matter to you? These are dead in all the ways that matter, and you'd still be able to hear. You'd be able to listen better without distractions."_ _Cutting out his eyes was one of the more popular threats. _

He still wanted to stop. Abandon the razor and wash his face and declare that he was making a statement by having one side clean and the other full of stubble. Instead, Matt kept going, remembering being a little boy and hearing his father say that facial hair wasn't all it was cracked up to be, he'd find out when he got bigger. Got bigger and became a doctor or a lawyer or a roof hopper in maroon leather.

"_You still think she cares, that she ever did? You still wish to escape? Do you think she'll be disgusted by your appearance? They can be healed, Matthew. Every scar and bump and bruise, if you listen to us."_

With his father's words as an anchor, Matt continued his task. Then he hit a mark on his chin, the one Elektra pointed out last night. Just a burn. A diamond-shaped burn. Matt still wondered how the engagement ring hadn't fallen from his pocket when they took him, during that fight in the alley. The razor stilled over that mark. Matt touched the bullet hole again, noting the scent of gunpowder undetectable to anyone else. Lowering his free hand, Matt kept the blade where it was.

"_He cut his wrists, Master."_

His hand shook and the blade nicked his chin. Then he listened to Abby down the hall. She wasn't sleeping well, but it was better than nothing. Garrett was at Rachel's bedside again, fingers running easily through smooth blonde hair. Elektra was still out, though she wouldn't stay that way for long. Matt focused on her heartbeat and pretended he was still holding her. He lowered the razor long enough to wipe off the small bit of blood on his chin, then brought it upwards again.

* * *

Foggy always had an interest in Europe, the same vague curiosity that many people have about foreign lands. Paris had seemed like a nice enough place from all the research he'd done. Historic, city of romance, the list went on. Now, locked in a hotel room with no sleep, very little food, and very little patience, Foggy wanted nothing more than to be back on U.S. soil. Paris had looked far better on the Travel Channel, back when he could lounge in his apartment without fear of being shot by a woman who may or may not be mentally sound. Dejectedly, Foggy tossed the file folder onto the table in front of him, staring longingly at the bed. "How about a break?"

Occupying the chair in front of him, Chastity shook her head, one long nail tapping pointedly on the abandoned folder. "This is your cover. For the covering to work, you actually have to know the information."

"It's noon, I've slept four hours in a week-"

"You slept on the plane."

"That was drug-induced."

"Best kind of sleep there is."

"Nor when it leaves you with a head-splitting migraine," he retorted. Sighing, his eyes fell on the plate of croissants resting on a nearby tray. Following his gaze, Chastity vacated the chair and crossed to the tray. Smirking, she grabbed a croissant from the plate and, very slowly, began to eat it in front of him.

"You're kidding right? Please tell me you're not trying to entice me with food."

Tilting her head thoughtfully, the blonde swallowed and said, "Entice, always loved that word. And yeah, I'm enticing you with food. Like a dog, I guess. Have the first six pages memorized in half an hour and you can have snack time. Then you can have nap time after that, then maybe we can read nursery rhymes after you memorize the rest."

Exasperated, Foggy flipped the file, open, holding up one of the pages. "Why am I selling drills? I don't know anything about drills."

"You're selling drills because the paper says you're selling drills," she replied, taking another bite. "Where were you born?" she asked. "Without consulting the magical piece of paper."

"Wisconsin," he said tiredly.

"Land of cheeseheads, huh? How about them Packers?"

"I hate football."

"Fair enough. Which part of Wisconsin?"

"Madison."

"Milwaukee," the blonde corrected. "Land of breweries, home of Jeffrey Dahmer."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Then it shouldn't be hard to remember the name."

"Sorry."

"Sorry won't work if you're being tortured."

"Isn't it your job to prevent that?"

"Ideally, but I have a lousy work ethic."

"And you work for the U.S. government?"

"They have a good dental plan," she replied, flashing white teeth. "What kind of drills do you sell?"

"The kind that drill things."

Frowning, Chastity waved her croissant in front of him.

"Can you please not do that?"

"Would threats work better than incentives?"

"Why drills? I don't know anything about drills."

"Learning is fun," she said, gesturing towards the folder. "Would you rather be a young, starving artist?"

"No."

"Because—don't be offended—I think you're too old to be a young, starving artist."

At least she hadn't called him fat. Not directly anyway. "I don't do art."

"Then you sell drills."

"Would it be possible for you to stop talking to me like—"

"—like you're a whiney two-year-old? Would it be possible for you to stop whining?"

"I'm not-"

"My first year as an agent, I was captured and tortured for fifteen days. They beat me, they starved me, demanding that I drop my alias and reveal who I worked for. I was rescued shortly before the firing squad would've become involved. I'm trying to stop something like that from happening to you. What college did you attend?"

"Started at UW-Madison, transferred to Whitewater my junior year."

"Good," Chastity praised, grabbing the plate and dropping it in front of him. Checking to see that the door was still locked, the blonde returned to her seat, skimming over the cover story while Foggy ate. "How long are you here for?"

"A few weeks," he answered automatically, wiping his lips with a napkin. "Did any of that really happen, or-"

"You think I'd make something like that up?"

Foggy gave her a look.

"Didn't happen to me, but it supposedly happened to my old partner."

"Supposedly?"

"He might have fabricated the whole thing so I'd give him morning sex."

"Okay then," Foggy replied, unsure if she was being serious or not. "Look, I thought the plan was to sit here and lay low. How many people do you think are going to want my life story?"

"I had an annoyingly talkative housekeeper once, wanted to know everything there was to know about my personal life."

"Oh. And uh, this housekeeper, is she still alive?"

"No idea. I reported her to immigration and they had her deported."

"Because she talked too much?"

"Because she didn't do a good job on the toilets. I'm not expecting trouble, but its better you be prepared. Mother's maiden name?"

"Sharpe. What kind of trouble aren't you expecting?"

"Not _your _mother's maiden name, Michael Chandler's mother's maiden name. And don't worry about it. On the off chance that I'm killed, I want to know that you can stick to your story."

Michael Chandler, he'd almost forgotten his own fake name. "Stevens. Is that likely?"

"My getting killed? Why, would that upset you, Michael?"

"Wouldn't upset Foggy or Michael," the lawyer replied unthinkingly. Abandoning his lunch, Foggy looked up with wide eyes, shocked by his own words.

Sitting back in her chair, Chastity closed the folder and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Are you attempting to be funny again?"

"No," said Foggy, trying not to trip over his traitorous tongue. "Yes. You're not allowed to shoot me, right? Wouldn't that make this whole thing a waste of time?"

"Paris is never a waste of time," she said, biting into the pastry again. "Paris baked goods are incredible. You weren't trying to be funny, which means you actually have a spine."

"Right…and…?"

"Stop sweating. I like that about you, nice to know you aren't completely helpless. In this context, backbone is a good thing. Father's occupation?"

"Dairy farmer."

"Good. Keep this up and we might get around to nap time. Word to the wise though: You show backbone with the wrong people, they're apt to sew your mouth shut. After they sever your vocal chords. Are you going to eat that?"

Blinking, Foggy pushed the remaining bagel in her direction. "Please."

"Gentleman," Chastity observed with a mysterious smile. "It might actually be worth it, keeping you off the coroner's table. "Political affiliations?"

"Communist party."

"There's funny and there's attitude. Learn the difference," she said mildly.

Shrugging, Foggy rolled the kinks from his neck. If she _was _going to kill him, she probably would've done it already. He was too tired and hungry and angry at his suicidal best friend to care anymore. "Democrat."

"I hate Democrats."

"Republican then."

"File says you're a Democrat, be a Democrat. Musical preferences?"

Puzzled, Foggy looked at her incredulously. "Is that what they usually ask when they're torturing you?"

"How would I know, never happened to me. You wanted a break, here's your break."

"So this is small talk?"

The blonde sighed in a way that suggested extremely long suffering. "This is what I get for trying to ease the tension. John really isn't worth this."

"John? I thought-"

"Force of habit. Garrett is John, John is Garrett. He was John to me; before I found out he _wasn't _John. How do you feel about Tom Petty?"

"As a person?"

"No. If you're taking a break, I'm indulging in musical escapism." Rising again, Chastity walked to the bed she'd claimed, opening the small suitcase that rested there. With a kind of surreal numbness, Foggy watched her pull items from one of the pockets. A makeup case, a hairbrush, and a pen all landed on the bed, followed by a highly-sharpened stiletto, two taser guns, and three small handguns. Last but not least came a rather expensive looking iPod.

"Hasn't hit stores yet," Chastity informed him, leaving the other items where they were as she turned back around. "Another perk of the government job."

"Terrific. I pay taxes so you can get your teeth whitened and test out new electronics."

"Wonderful isn't it? Really makes you want to get back to the States. You're not allergic to Tom Petty are you?"

"Love him," Foggy deadpanned.

Chastity nodded approvingly. "As I said, might be worth it to keep you alive."

* * *

She dreamed of his funeral. This one was open-casket. She dreamed of a wooden box with Matt inside, his face blown to pieces by the gun.

Elektra wanted to scream when she woke up. It was a familiar urge that she conquered easily enough. Familiar urge, familiar routine. She'd have a nightmare about her parents or Abby or one of a thousand other things, wake up wanting to scream or cry or both, and Matt would be there. Same old, same old.

He was there now, perched on the edge of the bed and holding on to her far too gently. The shoulder caused him to treat her like glass. Frustrated, Elektra pulled him tight against her, memories of last night mixing with memories of the dream . The dream that was his fault because he'd been so indescribably stupid. One of her hands drifted up to his neck, nails digging into the flesh there. He deserved more than a few scratches for his idiocy, but there were minors in the house, so scratches would have to be enough. For now.

Elektra clung to him for a long time, assuring himself once again that he was still alive. He'd done this with her many times. First, right after she ended their five year estrangement, then after his own return, when he came out of his own nightmares and whispered about how he'd thought she wasn't real, he'd thought they were tricking him again. Same old, same old.

If he'd tried to say something, she would've told him to shut up. He didn't, so Elektra merely held on to him and breathed. She still wanted to cry, so she made herself breathe and swallow and choke back the tears. She'd cried more in the last year than the last twenty, and she was done with it. For now.

When she did finally pull back enough to look at him, Elektra felt like crying again. Matt looked worn and exhausted. There was a bruise forming where Garrett punched him on the porch. He looked worn and exhausted and better than she'd seen him in over a year. He'd shaved, ridding himself of what had looked more and more like a beard. Leaning forward, Elektra fingered the diamond shape on his chin. He'd cut himself there, but that was it. No more long gashes to be blamed on a dull razor. She expected him to flinch away from her, but that didn't happen. He let her fingers roam over his face, a quiet smile gracing his lips.

It was more than lack of stubble, Matt looked somehow healthier. With morning sun streaming in the windows and lighting him from behind, with that odd little smile, Matt looked different somehow. Instinctively, Elektra pulled him down slightly, causing their lips to meet. It wasn't sweet and tender, hardly even loving. It was hard and demanding, because she couldn't believe what her mind was telling her. She couldn't believe that last night was the final straw for him, that maybe he really could get better now.

Elektra broke the kiss as soon as she felt him get comfortable. She was still mad; she needed some way to vent. Still, she couldn't let go yet. Swallowing another sob, Elektra rested her head on his shoulder as she ran one hand through his hair. Matt sighed deeply, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. The gesture was too much, and Elektra didn't even know why. Ending the embrace, she crawled out of bed, gooseflesh rising as cool morning air hit her body.

Matt stayed where he was, and she was grateful. She loved him, she wanted to keep him close forever and thank whatever gods there were that he was there. Simultaneously, she wanted to beat him senseless for having the unmitigated gall to even think about leaving her alone, about making her put him in the ground. For the second time, no less. She wondered if this was punishment, the universe getting back at her for all she'd done, for leaving _Matt _alone. It was an old idea, one that flitted across her mind fairly often, so Elektra had no trouble squashing the notion before it could do too much damage. Same old, same old.

She dressed quickly, feeling Matt's attention on her. As she was turning from the dresser, something caught her eye. The duffel bag containing Matt's Daredevil gear and her own weapons and costume was open, maroon leather spilling to the floor. The bag was shoved halfway under the bed, and Elektra suddenly knew exactly what had happened. Matt had opened the bag, probably been running his hands over the costume, then she'd started tossing and turning. He'd done a half-ass job at hiding his activities, then rushed to comfort her.

She was surprised, but she shouldn't have been surprised. She told him to handle his emotions somehow, do whatever it took. How had he handled things before? How had he handled his father's death and her own, and her years long absence from his life?

Elektra really shouldn't have been surprised to see the costume again.

Mentally shaking herself, Elektra did her best to ignore the costume and all it implied. Later, she'd deal with that costume and all it meant for them later.

* * *

Because he owned this hospital and everyone in it, it was exceedingly easy for Fisk to get Maya the best care possible. Easier still was making sure this matter remained private. Hearing a commotion, one of the neighbors had been kind enough to contact emergency services. Unfortunately, that same neighbor was aware that Maya Lopez received occasional visits from Wilson Fisk. The man had attempted to call the press. The concerned neighbor had been dealt with.

Fisk towered over Maya's hospital bed, one massive hand covering her own. Numerous deep cuts, glass in her legs and back, too many bruises to count, it could've been much, much worse. She was unconscious now only because of a strong combination of painkillers and sedatives. The paramedics had to knock her out when she fought to stay out of the ambulance.

Bullseye's reappearance was something of a shock. Seeing him on the security cameras he'd hidden in Maya's apartment, Fisk was pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised at how well the man seemed. His attack on Maya was a complication; one Fisk would have to explain when the woman woke up. He didn't relish that conversation, but he didn't worry either. Maya wasn't stupid, just naïve. Naïve people were easy to handle. Phillips, his assistant, that was another story. Fisk was believing more and more every day that Phillips was an incompetent moron. The fool had actually asked his boss why Bullseye would go after Maya.

'Making a point,' Bullseye said. That told Fisk everything he needed to know.

"_I'm going to enjoy working with you again Fisk, I really am."_

_Leaning forward in his chair, Fisk pressed his fingers together speculatively. "A little presumptuous, don't you think?"_

"_No, I don't. Rumor is you're looking for someone, a kid."_

"_A kid who's not to be harmed. It's not your type of job."_

"_I'm a jack of all trades Fisk, you know that." A quick wrist movement produced a playing card, which Bullseye casually flicked across the desk. Jack of hearts. _

"_That operation is on the backburner, I'm not going to ask how you found out about it."_

"_Why, adoption troubles?"_

"_I admire you for being so hard to kill, I truly do. Unfortunately, your services won't be needed anymore."_

_The hitman chuckled derisively. "You're giving me a pink slip?"_

"_You failed to kill Elektra and the lawyer. Twice. I don't believe in the three strikes policy."_

"_Third time's the charm. I'll even waive the fee for you."_

"_If you bothered to stay current, you'd know that Murdock is dead. Elektra and the girl haven't been seen for months."_

"_Murdock's alive and we both know it. I'm not the only one who's hard to kill."_

"_Exactly. The devil won't die easy. You on the other hand…"_

"_Enough of this shit. If you're not after the kid and you're not after Murdock and Elektra, then put me on retainer until you are. Better yet, give me a different errand to run."_

"_I've filled my employee quota for the year. You can see yourself out."_

"_You've hired someone else," Bullseye said, comprehension finally dawning. "Who's the new guy?"_

"_I don't think that's relevant to you, but tell me how you're alive after taking a knife to the gut and maybe we'll discuss it."_

"_Magician never reveals his secrets Fisk, spoils the mystique. You saying my replacement has a spotless record? Because I don't know anyone who hasn't made a few mistakes."_

"_In my organization, the ones who make mistakes don't last very long. Besides, your replacement has something you don't."_

"_And what would that be?"_

"_Loyalty. To me, not to the highest bidder."_

"_I see. Well who is this embodiment of loyalty? I checked around, and none of the usual suspects are on your payroll."_

"_Again, I don't think that's relevant to you. Good luck, I'm sure you'll find another employer." _

_Then something odd happened. As Fisk reached out to shake the other man's hand, Bullseye's nose began to bleed. Heavily. Pinching his nostrils with one hand, he rubbed at his forehead with the other, both hands shaking. His skin became pale, some of the veins were visible._

"_Or maybe you won't," Fisk mused, suddenly intrigued. "Is this why no one's seen you? Is this why no one will hire you?"_

_Blood stained the alligator coat as he wiped red liquid from his face. "I can work," he insisted, fingers still trembling. "I'm the best and you know that."_

"_You sound like a child. And you look like a very sick man. I think you know that I don't offer health insurance with the position you want."_

"_I need jobs, Fisk, I need money. If I'm not working for you, someone else will hire me, someone who sees through this philanthropy garbage you've got going."_

"_If you're the best my competition can afford, then they're not competition at all. I suggest you leave before I charge you for that carpet you're bleeding on._

He'd gone after Maya to prove his worth and surprisingly enough, he'd succeeded. Releasing Maya's hand, Fisk crossed to the window near her bed, gazing at the city below. She'd failed with Elektra, she'd failed with Bullseye, she'd even failed with Nelson. To be fair, the Irishman and Natchios's daughter were far beyond her level, despite a training regimen that rivaled Elektra's. He knew this because he'd seen the tapes. For a time, Nikolas Natchios had videotaped his daughter's sessions with whatever sensei was on call that year. The theory was that seeing what she did wrong would improve Elektra's fighting style. After her father died, Fisk acquired the tapes. Elektra was too grief-stricken to notice or care.

So, despite every advantage he'd given her, Maya simply wasn't measuring up. If she were anyone else, she'd be dead already. But she wasn't anyone else, was she? With a look that could've been compassion (at least his version of it), Fisk returned to her bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

It was Maya's father who taught him the pitfalls of friendship, taught him how dangerous such a thing was. William 'Willie' Lincoln was like him. Lousy apartment in the Bronx, useless parents, and a yearning for power and respect. They'd met as younger men in the employ of a small-time crime boss. Against his better judgment, Fisk had allowed himself to befriend Willie 'Crazy Horse' Lincoln. Crazy Horse was his Indian name, he said, a nod to his Cheyenne heritage. Wilson used to joke that the name fit. Not because of heritage, because Crazy Horse Lincoln really was crazy. Wilson liked him because they were both underdogs, both ambitious, both with the last names of presidents. Wilson liked being around Crazy Horse because Crazy Horse made him look sane.

Against his better judgment, Wilson came to view this man as a friend. They'd toiled away together, doing too much work while Fallon paid them too little. The first sign of trouble came when Crazy Horse had a daughter. It was an accident in every sense of the word, a pregnancy wanted by no one. Maya's mother was out of the picture soon enough, but Crazy Horse Lincoln wasn't thinking straight. He wanted to keep the child; it was different now he could actually see his daughter.

Wilson should've ended it then and there. He knew his friend was weak; he should've put him out of his misery. But Wilson hadn't done that, despite the fact that Lincoln was showing signs of becoming a liability. Still, he was good at his job, loyal to his friends, if not his boss. So Fisk told him about his next career plan. Fallon was an old man, past his prime. It was time for a change in leadership. They'd discussed it before heading out to their next job. Eventually, Lincoln agreed. That night was a turning point, which was the only reason Fisk remembered it so vividly. He'd murdered countless people, directly or indirectly, and the only reason he recalled that particular victim was because of what happened before his death. Fisk had beaten the life from Jack Murdock while Lincoln helped keep him still, then they'd gone off to plan a coup.

In hindsight, he recognized the foolishness of asking Lincoln to join him. He could've brought down Fallon on his own; it just would've taken more time. But he'd wanted to lead, and he'd wanted a lead enforcer, someone he could trust. Stupid, naïve, but it seemed to work at the time. Fisk and Lincoln rallied Fallon's men on to their side, and the old man went down easily enough.

Time passed, and then the doctors were saying Maya was different, there was something wrong. Things were different back then, doctors weren't nearly as thorough, They thought the girl was retarded.

Lincoln put her in an expensive school for kids who drooled on themselves and set things on fire. Fisk didn't care for the child. She made her father weak, a very bad thing because Crazy Horse was already weaker than he should be. Crazy Horse was becoming too crazy for his own good.

Wilson did the only thing he could. He shot Maya's father in the head. It was a sign of respect that he bothered to do it himself. He'd looked his friend in the eye and done what was necessary. But not before Crazy Horse got a word in. Not before he asked Fisk to take care of Maya.

"_Promise. Promise you'll take care of her."_

He wasn't begging. It was a last request, spoken with as much dignity as he could muster with a pistol to his head. He wasn't begging, and he was a friend, as much as that term meant to Wilson Fisk.

"_I promise."_

Nikolas Natchios came along shortly after that, with his own company, his own assets, and his own daughter. Elektra was fifteen when Maya was five. While Elektra was learning judo, Maya was spending most of her time in that special school, learning how to make sock puppets. It wasn't 'til later that Maya was transferred to another school. For prodigies.

Fisk's walk down memory lane was interrupted when he saw Maya begin to stir. Pressing the call button, he summoned the nurse, who summoned the doctor, who made it to the room in record time.

"Good, she's regaining consciousness. Let me just-"

"Keep her under."

"Excuse me?"

"She doesn't sleep, bad memories. Nightmares. Maya usually doesn't sleep much."

"Mr. Fisk, I can't administer unnecessary drugs to a patient so she can catch up on beauty sleep."

"You're right, which is why I'm telling you that these drugs _are _necessary. She'll be in pain when she wakes up?"

"Yes, but that can be controlled."

"With more drugs. Would you consider those to be unnecessary?"

They continued in this vein for a few minutes. Eventually Fisk got his way. Money, power, and threats were a very effective combination. Wilson knew how it would look to Maya if he wasn't there when she woke up, but he needed more time. Bullseye's arrival changed things. Fisk needed to decide how to respond to it and, more importantly, how to explain it to Maya.

* * *

Over the past week or so, Elektra had gotten used to something resembling a normal breakfast. Garrett serving waffles or French toast or (God help her) pancakes made to look like smiley faces, Abby sitting next to Rachel, trying to force a smile out of the girl. Matt, jokingly offering to cut up her food because of the injured shoulder. Those moments had seemed overly surreal, indescribably out of place. This morning wasn't out of place so much as utterly depressing.

Garrett, still in yesterday's clothes, was behind the counter with a large bag of chips in front of him. Abby was sitting at the table, elbow on the table, head resting on her hand. There was a bowl of untouched cereal in front of her. Rachel wasn't even in the kitchen. The girl was planted in front of a Looney Tunes rerun, looking as miserable as the others felt.

"Breakfast?" Garrett asked tonelessly, holding up the bag.

Shaking her head in annoyance, Elektra moved to face him on the opposite side of the counter. His lip was swollen where she'd hit him last night and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Where's Mr. Elektra, sleeping in today?"

Elektra ignored him. Matt had begged out of breakfast, her guess being that he was still examining the Daredevil gear. Again, she chose not to think about that at the moment. Turning to look at Abby, Elektra noted her half-closed eyes. "Why don't you sleep awhile longer?"

"I'm not tired," Abby replied.

"You're falling asleep in your cereal."

"Stop bugging me," she whined, sounding more like a petulant toddler than an almost-adult. "Anyway, meditation right? All the benefits of sleep in half the time."

God Elektra hated it when Abby quoted her. "You never learned how to do it."

"Yeah I did. Guy at the Compound taught me last year." Her tone suggested that Elektra must be fairly stupid not to have known this.

Elektra wasn't in the mood for this. The broody, sarcastic teenager thing was the last thing she needed. "Can you at least eat?" she asked, nodding at the cereal.

"I thought you'd nag me a little less if you didn't think I was starving myself," Abby shot back. "We're out of real food," she added, as if this too was her guardian's fault.

Elektra bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn't seen the angry brat act in awhile, and it hadn't become more amusing with time.

Grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing them in his mouth, Garrett chewed loudly as he crossed to the living room and switched off the TV. "Get in here and eat," he said flatly.

Rachel sank deeper into the couch, using the remote to resume her show. "I'm not hungry."

"It's a rerun. Bugs Bunny gets away from Elmer Fudd and Porky Pig closes things out."

"My head hurts," the girl replied, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Join the club. Probably hurts because your eyes are glued to the TV," Garrett muttered. However, he did reach down and check her forehead.

Rachel flinched away. "I said I had a headache, not a fever."

"Fine," Garrett muttered, walking back to the kitchen. Throwing open the refrigerator, he emerged with a carton of orange juice. Removing the cap, he drank without a glass, wiping his lips on his sleeve. "Thirsty?" he asked, holding out the carton.

Elektra shook her head in disgust. He was doing it to annoy her, she knew that. She also knew that it was working.

Abruptly, Abby stood from the table, went to the fridge herself, and stared listlessly at its contents.

Elektra let it go on for nearly a minute before her own frustration got the best of her. "The food isn't going to materialize out of nowhere if you wait for it long enough," she snapped.

Abby gave her a dirty look. "Matt drank the good juice."

Of course he did. Matt drank the good juice, Matt scared the living hell out of them, Matt couldn't magically recover from what happened to him, so of course this was Elektra's fault. "He's getting better," Elektra murmured quietly enough that Rachel wouldn't hear.

Another look. The irony of it didn't escape her. First, it was Abby who said all the time that Matt was improving, Matt was getting better. Elektra had been the angry one, angry at Matt for being gone, angry at Abby for knowing things and not telling her, and trying so hard _not _to be angry at either of them.

Shrugging, Abby continued her half-hearted quest for sustenance. "Where's the pudding?" she asked suddenly. "The little pack things?"

"They're there," Elektra responded. The real food might be gone, but she remembered seeing two packages of those snack cups last night.

"I don't see them."

"Move the food around."

"They're not there."

"Then eat something else."

"I don't want to."

"Then move the food around and the pudding cups will reveal themselves to you."

"But they're not the-"

Before she could finish the sentence, Elektra swept across the small distance between them, pushed aside a jar of mayonnaise, and handed the teen a cup of fudge swirl pudding.

"Oh," Abby shrugged, seemingly unaffected by her guardian's death-glare. Foregoing any words of thanks, she grabbed a spoon and went back to the table.

Eyebrows raised, Garrett went to the coffee maker, poured a cup and shoved it into Elektra's hands. "If I give you caffeine, will you stop looking like that?"

Elektra ignored him, removing the chip crumbs from her cup. Originally she'd been fine about keeping Matt out of the kitchen. Abby was pissed at him, Garrett was pissed and armed. Now Elektra wished that she'd made him come with her. She truly believed, maybe for the first time, that he was getting better, and she truly did love him. But right now she wanted him to get out here so that she wouldn't be the one getting lynched.

Abby stood up again, taking her own cup from the cabinet and heading for the coffee pot.

"What are you doing?" Elektra asked.

"Matt drank the good juice."

"You don't drink coffee."

"Sometimes I do."

"Since when?"

"Last year."

Last year. When Matt was gone and Abby was failing half her classes and drinking beer with friends and Elektra hadn't been aware of any of this until much, much later. She watched Abby lean against the fridge, leisurely sipping the hot liquid. It shouldn't bother her, but it did. It bothered her that Abby had picked up another of her habits.

Garrett watched her out of the corner of his eye, studying her expression. "Rach," he called, not looking at his niece. "Go wash your hands."

"I did already."

"Brush your teeth."

"Did that too."

"Then go put that thing away," he ordered, finally meeting her eyes. "It's dangerous to leave your toys out like that."

Glaring at him, Rachel picked up a gray stuffed giraffe from the couch. Clearly she didn't agree that a miniature stuffed animal posed much of a health risk. She complied nonetheless, still glaring at her uncle.

With the child out of earshot, Garrett turned his attention to Abby. "Anything in that coffee?"

"We're out of cream and sugar," Abby replied, despite the fact that he already knew that.

"Drinking the Elektra Special then."

The teen looked at him in puzzlement.

Garrett tilted his head at the coffee cup. "Black. Like her soul," he elaborated, pointing his thumb toward Elektra.

As usual, there was nothing behind the insult, and Elektra did know that he was still doing it to irritate her. It was still working.

"Sorry," he said unconvincingly. "I get bitter when other people are having sex and I miss out. You and Matt find those condoms okay?"

Abby choked on her coffee, sputtering hard as she tried to clear her airway.

"Don't worry kid; it's revolting to me too."

Still coughing, Abby scowled at Garrett murderously.

"Garrett," Elektra hissed.

"I'm just asking. God knows we don't need your genetics poisoning the next generation."

"Stop talking," Abby bit out, eyes watering as hot coffee went the wrong way down her throat.

"That's cute," Garrett remarked, backing away from Elektra so she couldn't reach his throat. "She thinks you two lay in bed and do crosswords together. There's a reason it's called living in sin though."

Torn between her desire to strangle Garrett and her need to make sure Abby didn't choke to death, Elektra took one step towards her protégé.

"Don't," Abby wheezed, straightening up and setting her cup aside. "Just don't," she repeated. All the blood in her body seemed to have moved to her face. "Can I kill him?" she asked, looking everywhere but at Elektra.

"No," the older woman replied, hiding her reluctance well.

"Can I watch you kill him?"

"Abby."

"Don't," she said for the third time. "Just don't look at me." She scowled at Garrett again. "I'm going to go vomit in my mouth," she told them before heading for the bathroom.

"Try not to swallow," Garrett replied pleasantly. "Is she always that dramatic?"

"Did you ever mature past the age of ten?"

"Physically or emotionally?"

Elektra scowled at him.

"I'm teaching the importance of safe sex."

"Garrett."

"She deserved it. Anyway, I saw the look on your face, guarantee you she'll never drink coffee again." With that, Garrett picked up Abby's abandoned mug and began to drink from it.

In the midst of wondering why it was that she'd given up killing, Elektra watched Garrett's hands shake as he held the beverage. With a jolt, she noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were.

"How's the shoulder?" Garrett asked suddenly.

Train of thought derailed, Elektra looked at him quizzically, surprised by the sudden roughness in his voice.

"How's the fucking shoulder?" he repeated, eyes riveted on the stiff way she was holding her arm.

"It'll heal," she replied honestly, frowning at his sudden concern.

"Tore open twice," he commented, still with that rough edge in his voice.

It had. First when Ethan and Matt arrived, then when they were fighting for their lives at Jimmy Pierce's home. "It's fine."

Garrett put down the coffee and shook his head, unreasonably angry. "It's going to scar."

It would. She'd have an ugly trophy on that shoulder, near the spot she'd stabbed Matt on his own body. His and hers battle wounds.

Elektra didn't get to say more. Rachel was coming back down the stairs, Matt behind her. Perfect timing as always. Rachel glanced at Matt from beneath hooded eyes, scurrying back to the couch.

Garrett regarded Matt with suspicion before turning his attention back to his niece. Rachel was in front of the TV again, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Kid, you didn't sleep enough last night."

"My head hurts."

"I know. You didn't sleep enough last night."

"That's not what it's from."

Leaving the kitchen, Garrett crouched down in front of the couch. "Why, you know what it's from?"

The girl stared at her hands.

"Rachel," he muttered, leaning forward to clasp her shoulder. The blonde whimpered in pain. Jaw clenched, Garrett pulled up the sleeves of her shirt, exposing black and blue shoulders. "What is this?" he demanded harshly. "Where'd this come from?"

"Garrett," Elektra tried.

"Did Daddy do this? Did Daddy show you that tape from yesterday?"

"You promised you wouldn't ask any more questions," Rachel said quietly.

"Garrett!" Elektra repeated, finally gaining his attention. He looked at her with wild, bloodshot eyes, and then he got it. Those bruises were too fresh; he would've noticed them before if they weren't. He remembered clamping in blind panic to his niece's shoulders, screaming at her the night before because she just wouldn't respond to him.

"Fuck," Garrett muttered, quietly but viciously. He backed away from Rachel as if she had some contagious disease, scrambling to his feet and towards the back door. When he reached Matt and Elektra, he slowed momentarily. "Addendum to what I said in the hall," said Garrett, his eyes fixed on Matt. "You want to thank me? I'll need your help with something later." Not waiting for a response, Garrett left the house, door rattling behind him.

* * *

"Hello, lover,"

"Cut it out, Chast."

Frowning, Chastity checked to make sure Nelson was still snoring in bed before taking her cell into the bathroom. Shutting the door, she brought the phone back to her ear. "How are you?"

"Peachy. How's Nelson?"

"Nelson's good, I like Nelson."

"Oh hell."

"What?"

"Are you fucking him?"

"Would it bother you if I was?"

"Are you?"

"Don't be stupid. Have you seen the man's picture? Even if he was attractive, he's like a damsel in distress I'm being forced to rescue. A helpless, male, damsel in distress."

"You haven't told him that have you?"

"Once, but I said it nicely."

"Look, I know this goes against your natural inclinations, but if you could try _not _to break his spirit and turn him against women forever, that would be really great."

"But I'm bored," she complained, sitting down on the edge of the tub.

"Find a shiny object to play with."

"Not necessary. Nelson likes Tom Petty."

"Everyone likes Tom Petty."

"Craig didn't."

"Good of you to kill him then."

"I know. Remember that song, _Free Falling_?"

"_Fallin_' yeah. Everybody remembers that song."

"Foggy likes it. I told him it was playing the first time I got high and now he thinks I'm a drug addict."

"Foggy? What happened to Nelson?"

"His name amuses me. I think he thinks I'm high right now. Which is funny because I'm supposed to keep him from getting tortured."

"Nobody cares enough to torture him."

"He doesn't know that."

"Would you stop tormenting him with your unstable beauty queen routine?."

"But I'm bored."

"I repeat, shiny object."

Chastity sighed, recognizing that he wasn't in the mood today. "What's wrong now?"

"You only gave me enough for one injection."

"There were twenty agents in your apartment. What did you expect me to do, stuff needles down my bra?"

"I need more."

His tone made her uncomfortable. "I thought you had this under control."

"I went cold turkey for over a week, Chastity."

"Garrett-"

"_Don't _give me the 'Just Say No' speech, not when it could've been you."

"Could've or should've?" she asked sadly.

He ignored the question. "Did you find the man I bought from?"

"Dead."

"What?"

"Gunshot to the head."

"Are you kidding?"

"No. Did you get the files I sent?"

"Yeah," Garrett said roughly.

"It's Jimmy's gun."

"I _know _it's his gun," Garrett snapped. "Rachel told me he and Bullseye were talking about how I was going to die."

Cursing silently, Chastity pressed the phone closer to her ear. "Do you have any idea why—"

"—why my brother wanted me dead? No, I haven't put my finger on that one yet."

"Rachel?"

"I asked her again this morning. She's not talking to me. She's afraid to fucking talk to me."

He coughed then. Hard and loud and continuously. "John?" she asked, forgetting to use his real name.

"Dammit," he swore, thickly. "Bled on my fucking shirt."

"You going to be all right?" Chastity asked worriedly.

"Stupid question, Chast," he replied, ending the call before she could stop him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone, what's the haps? Sorry, I don't really talk (or type) like that. I had to split this chapter in half in order to keep my sanity and not die from editing. Therefore, the cliffhanger I had planned (I know how much you all love cliffies) will have to wait. There's more back-story here, most of which is David Mack's, some of which I created and/or altered. Creative license people, if I copied Mack's original story, Matt would be dating Maya. I made a mistake in chapter six when I said that Maya was fifteen when her father died. No idea what happened there, brain must've misfired, but the error has been corrected.

This is a weird chapter for me, for reasons that don't involve getting totally carried away with the page count. While writing the Garrett/Chastity stuff, I was in a really good mood. Then I had discussions with two depressed friends who somehow managed to get _me _depressed, so the last ten to twelve pages were written while I was questioning my personal choices and the direction and meaning of my life. Heavy stuff, isn't it? Anyway, I can't gauge with any kind of objectivity whether this chapter is good or not, so read at your own risk. As I said, some of the more awesome stuff I had planned will now have to wait awhile. Luckily, Spring Break has commenced. Even more luckily for you guys, I have no money to go anywhere particularly fun, so the theory is that I should be able to write more. Sun, sand, and surf? Who needs such things when it's cold out, friends are calling to spread their depression, and my midterm paper _still _hasn't been graded? (Three weeks is more than enough time to read and return what was essentially a book report on _1984_.) Blasted Political Science proffs. Sorry, ranting complete, Read, enjoy, and leave some reviews on your way out.

* * *

It was harder to come back from unconsciousness when you couldn't hear. No loving voices calling your name, no sounds of any kind to cling to, to tell you where you were. Maya drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the morning, never awake for more than a few seconds. The first time this happened, she could sense Wilson nearby. His presence as big as his frame, the man was impossible to miss even in a drug-filled bubble of silence. Wilson was gone the next time she woke up, when the impossibly young nurse was trying to ask her questions in sign language. Maya wanted to tell her it wasn't necessary, that she could read lips more easily, but she drifted again before the words could form.

Lots of people hated doctors or hospitals. Maya belonged to neither category. She resented the doctors for not saving her father's life, but that was all. Her hatred was reserved for the ambulances, explaining why the paramedics who'd brought her in were in need of medical attention themselves. This drug induced haze was her own fault, her fault that they'd pumped her so full of sedatives. She couldn't help it though. After years of practice and training and compartmentalization, Maya couldn't help the fear that overcame her when an ambulance was involved.

If her ears functioned, Maya would've heard the blare of sirens that day, the voices of civilians and cops and medical personnel rushing around her father's office building. She heard none of that, but it didn't matter. She could see just fine, see the cops and the civilians and the ambulance her father was loaded into. The paramedics and the nanny tried to keep her out for a few seconds, then they changed their minds. Maya hadn't known why at first, but later she figured it out. William Lincoln was dying and they were letting his daughter say goodbye.

If Maya could hear, she would've picked up on her father's ragged breathing, picked up on the fading blip of the heart monitor. She heard neither of those things, but she saw just fine. Maya saw the ruin that used to be her father's face, saw his bloody hand reaching towards her. His large fingers covered her small face, leaving a red handprint. Then his fingers were gone. The green line of the heart monitor went flat, the hand dropped lifelessly away, and William Lincoln was dead.

It made no sense, none of it. She'd been coming to see Daddy at work, the nanny said so. And then they were at Daddy's work and everything was all wrong. Daddy was gone and everyone was running around and Daddy's giant work friend was talking to one of the policemen. Until that day, Maya hadn't given much thought to Wilson Fisk. He was Daddy's work friend, Daddy talked about him a lot, but Maya hadn't paid attention. After the initial shock of seeing such an enormous man who towered over her Daddy, Wilson Fisk hadn't meant much to Maya. Things changed the day William Lincoln died. As Maya was being led away, Fisk abandoned his talk with the cop, bending low to offer words of comfort. Maya didn't know what he said, but she remembered the compassionate gaze, the arms giving her a brief hug that—surprisingly—didn't crush her. That was the first time she really thought about her father's comments on his business partner, about Daddy saying that Fisk was a good man, Fisk was much of the reason they had such a good life. Maya hadn't thought it such a good life, being at school with those kids who wore diapers and had imaginary friends they considered real, but things had changed.

When the pianist visited the school, the children labeled as 'special' were beside themselves with excitement. Maya was as thrilled as any of them, despite her inability to hear. She watched the woman's fingers dance over the keys, and before she knew what she was doing, Maya had stood up and sat next to her on the bench. The teacher was yelling, but Maya wasn't listening. Without effort, the girl replicated the pianist's movements, flawlessly performing one of Chopin's more famous pieces. She remembered hitting the keys hard, feeling the vibrations of the music under her fingers. The kid who liked to burn things helpfully pointed out that Maya wasn't retarded after all. She'd transferred schools soon after that.

'Photographic reflexes' was the term they eventually came up with, the ability to copy other people's movements through sight alone. Watching how others talked, how their lips moved, Maya was able to speak normally, without the impediments of most deaf people. The piano recitals came after that. Maya loved them, loved feeling the echoed vibrations from hundreds of people clapping. Despite his schedule, Wilson made every performance. Maya could feel his applause more than anyone else's.

She'd finished school when he was arrested, charged with crimes too numerous to mention. She visited him just once, before the trial started.

"_Is it true?" she asked. The phone at her ear was for his benefit alone._

"_You don't need me to answer that," he replied, pressing his massive hand against the glass separating them._

"_Don't tell me what I need, just tell me the truth."_

_He sighed, looking away for a moment. "I wanted to keep this from you, let you go on thinking that your father and I were perfect men."_

He'd done things he wasn't proud of, gotten greedy with his business. William had tried to stop it, but loyalty kept him quiet. Loyalty, and the need to give his daughter the world. The things they'd done had kept Maya living comfortable and happy.

He'd done things he wasn't proud of, but he wasn't the man the police and the prosecutors said he was. Crimes were committed, but not the horrible, unspeakable crimes he was being charged with. He wasn't a murderer, Maya had to know that. Maya, who he'd loved and protected as if she were his own. It didn't matter if the love and protection always came from a distance, because he was doing it for her. Distance from him meant distance from his activities.

Believing him was easier. If Fisk was a monster who'd done things that didn't fall under white collar crime, than her father was as well. If Daddy's work friend was a murderer and an extortionist and a thousand other bad things, than Daddy was as well. And that didn't make sense at all. Nikolas Natchios was originally tagged as the Kingpin, but he was a slippery man. He created false documents, paid lots of people lots and lots of money to say things that weren't true. Believing that was so much easier than believing the same man who hugged her after Daddy died was a monster.

Murdock was a big part of the problem. The man was unstable, a killer himself. Jose Quesada hadn't simply fallen in front of an oncoming train, not to mention the other victims. A once good man, Murdock had become something else. Instead of a lawyer, he worked as judge, jury, and executioner. His connection with Elektra only made sense. Elektra's father was to blame for all of this, along with Matt Murdock.

Maya stayed away during the trial. Wilson didn't want her exposed to the mudslinging press, or to the unstable vigilante running Hell's Kitchen. Fisk reminded her through weekly letters that the guilty verdict was almost a foregone conclusion. Natchios did a good job with the frame, the cops and the layers were probably dirty, the chances of acquittal were one in a million.

Maya had little contact with him during the prison term. A card here, a letter there, and that was it. It was easier not to think about him, because thinking about him made her doubt him. Not about everything, she still believed Murdock to be a loose cannon, but was it truly possible for Fisk to railroaded like that? On the other hand, it was impossible to skim a copy of the _Post _without seeing another story on police corruption.

She improved herself while he was gone, learning to box and do gymnastics and so many other things. When the training got boring, she turned on the Food Network and learned to make a mean steak dinner. Piano was her default activity, the one she always came back to.

She was busy when Fisk got out, doing piano recitals on Mondays, women's boxing on Wednesdays, and acting in plays on Fridays. He wrote her about his impending release. Information given to him in prison was getting him back into the real world. That, and the fact that the house of cards he was convicted on was finally toppling. The lies and cover-ups were being exposed, and they didn't have reason to hold him anymore.

Maya was reluctant about seeing him again. In his absence, she'd remembered how it was after they changed her label from disabled to gifted. The idea that he was using her somehow managed to claw itself into her brain.

He kept calling her, announcing his plans for a charitable foundation, plans to change and make amends for the crimes he _had _committed. He reminded her how close he'd been to her father, how they'd been like brothers. Still, she resisted contacting him. Then he caught up to her in the cemetery.

"_He was a good man, the best."_

"_What are you doing here?"_

"_Same thing you are. William's birthday should be celebrated, even if he's not here to celebrate with us."_

"_You remembered that?"_

"_I remembered when you were a child didn't I? We both loved him, Maya. He and I both love you."_

"_You both lied to me."_

"_No child should know that her father has flaws. When he talked to me about it, William asked that you not be told if…if anything happened to him. I've given you everything I could, just like he wanted me to."_

"_Especially after you realized I wasn't retarded."_

"_I told you, I didn't want you tainted by what I was doing." He stepped closer, gently brushing her cheek with his hands. "You still think about it don't you? I saw the blood on your face after we lost him."_

"_Every day."_

"_I still think about it too. Every day. Listen Maya, I want to be different, better. For you."_

"_For me."_

"_I owe you that much."_

_His tone made her look up. The anguish on his face rocked Maya to the core. _

"_You know I don't like talking about the day he died, I know you don't either. But you need to know now, you need to understand. I killed your father."_

He told her about the man hired by one of his business competitors, about the deal he'd cheated them out of back when he and William were young and greedy. He told her about her father taking the bullet for him, her father dying a hero. He told her about the guilt, about wishing he was the one buried under their feet.

Over the next few weeks, Wilson told her lots of things. About Murdock trying to get him thrown behind bars again, about Elektra being alive and well, despite her highly dangerous occupation. Abby Miller was a mystery; he didn't know for certain why she was with them. The theory was that she, Murdock, or both of them together had murdered the teen's parents. Maybe they were feeling remorseful, maybe that was why they let the girl live and took her in. More likely, they were training the next generation of assassin, poisoning Abby's mind with their lies. Weren't the young the easiest to manipulate?

The nightmares that plagued her since childhood had gotten worse. Nightmares and headaches and unpleasant thoughts. Wilson, always ready to take care of her, paid for a private psychiatrist. Maya was skeptical when he brought up hypnosis, but he proved her wrong. Being put in a trance once a week helped. It helped with the nightmares and it helped her remember how kind Wilson had always been. He'd made mistakes, but he wasn't a bad man, not like Murdock.

The lawyer's death was a pleasant surprise, dampened only because Elektra hadn't suffered the same fate. When Wilson showed her the tape of Murdock killing Charles Mitchum, Maya was profoundly disappointed. Still, Elektra had come back from the dead, unfortunate as that was. It wasn't altogether surprising that Murdock was back, back to killing innocent men and trying to discredit Wilson's good works.

Maya recalled all this from her hospital bed, still half out of consciousness. She recalled arguing with Wilson about some of the things he wanted her to do. Then she'd gone back to the shrink and realized that Fisk was right. Abby needed to get away from Murdock and Elektra before they ruined her life. Foggy Nelson needed to be handled. Not eliminated, just taken out of the equation. He was helping Murdock spread the lies.

Maya drifted off again, waking when she sensed the vibrations of his thunderous footsteps. She didn't know how long she'd been here, she didn't know why it was so hard to stay focused, and she didn't know why Bullseye had attacked her. Was it Bullseye? It was so hard to remember. What drugs were they pumping her with? Blinking hard, she saw Wilson towering over her, felt his hand cover hers.

"Maya," he said in what she knew must be a deep baritone. "We need to talk."

* * *

Despite her arguments to the contrary, Rachel hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. Four hours wasn't enough for most people, never mind a seven year-old. She'd crashed on the couch an hour after breakfast. Garrett took her back to bed and pretended that he hadn't almost dropped her somewhere between the living room and the upstairs hallway. Abby volunteered to stay with her in case…something happened. What that something might be, Garrett had no idea, but lately he'd had few ideas about anything. One idea he did have was that Abby would've volunteered to build an igloo in the Sahara if it meant hiding away from Mr. and Mrs. Elektra.

The injection had somehow made it worse. He knew that wasn't possible, but getting back on the stuff after more than a week was shocking his system. When he'd come back inside with spots of red on his favorite shirt, Garrett told the truth. His nose had bled, it did that sometimes. Murdock wasn't around to catch the half-truth, Abby was too busy being moody, and Elektra didn't seem to care. E had other things on her mind, things like Murdock. Garrett doubted she would care, even if she did know everything. They weren't friends, they weren't anything. Sitting alone in his room, Garrett thought of the diner and Chastity and his unbridled stupidity.

"_Why are you doing this? Really."_

_They'd finished discussing crimelords and Chastity's new life as a widow, and now they were back to current events. "Why are _you _doing _this_? Really."_

"_Helping you? The usual reason. You're a manipulative bastard and a master of guilt. But you said Elektra doesn't have anything on you, so that doesn't apply here."_

_Garrett sat back in the booth, surveying the small Cambridge eatery. "Since when do my motivations mean this much to you?"_

"_You're going to get yourself killed, you have to know that. Everyone around her drops eventually."_

"Everyone _drops eventually, Chast."_

"_Everyone around _her _drops after being shot, stabbed, or poisoned."_

_Resting one arm along the back of the booth, Garrett shrugged indifferently. "All ends the same, only variable is the method. Besides, if S.H.I.E.L.D. has their way-"_

"_They're not trying to kill you, John."_

"_But they're doing a damn good job of it anyway, aren't they babe?"_

_Chastity glared at him. "Master of guilt, hard at work. What happens on the day I stop buying into your bullshit, John?"_

"_This would be the same day Donald Trump weds Rosie O' Donnell and Tommy Tutone makes a comeback?"_

"_They might make a cute couple. And who's Tommy Tutone?"_

"_Exactly. One hit wonder of the 80's, famous for the digits 867-5309?"_

"_Right, good song. Still doesn't explain why you're doing this for her."_

"_You don't think I'd do it for you?"_

"_Trying to smooth-talk your way out of getting the check?"_

"_You judge me too harshly, you know that?" Sighing, Garrett thought about McCabe, McCabe and the death sentence he'd received for trying to help Elektra. "She does a thing," he said, making vague hand gestures. "Elektra does a thing that makes you want to help her, even when you know it's a bad idea."_

"_A thing," Chastity repeated. "Is it the thing with the handcuffs, because I told you-"_

"_Not that kind of thing," Garrett cut in, trying to control his irritation. "Much as I would've liked her to do that thing, I'm talking about a different thing. She just…she draws you to her. She's a mess, but you know that she didn't used to be a mess, and when she's there, all you want to do is make her better, make it so she doesn't look so goddamn miserable all day."_

"_I see," Chastity replied. "So this thing is the reason I'm supposed to go to New York, play bodyguard to someone I've never met, then come up with a way to get your old girlfriend's boyfriend cleared of murder charges?"_

"_We weren't dating."_

"_Would you prefer ninja whore-"_

"_Please shut up now. And yeah, I guess the thing would be the reason I'm asking you to do this."_

"_I see. Are you drunk now?"_

"_Don't make me feel worse."_

"_I think I liked you better when you were drunk."_

"_Chastity, _I _liked me better when I was drunk."_

The diner seemed like forever ago, even though it happened yesterday. The diner was before the audio file and the gunshot and Rachel turning into a different kid. The diner was before Chastity sent him those files.

Rubbing his eyes, Garrett took the laptop from his nightstand, bringing it to rest on his lap. When he'd done this a few hours ago, Garrett had to remove the battery and put it back in before starting the computer, so afraid was he that the evil brainwashing voice would speak again if he simply opened the machine. Some of Jimmy's files could've been lost in the crash, but Garrett couldn't make himself care. He'd read Chastity's information three times over, and doing it again felt masochistic. Whatever. He seemed to have a fondness for gorgeous women who liked to verbally or physically torture him, so a bit more masochism couldn't hurt.

His door was locked, but he still glanced at it anxiously. He'd hinted to Elektra that he needed a second to relax, which probably meant that she thought he was in here watching adult material and doing adult things to himself. Hopefully she wouldn't bother him. Hopefully Rachel was still asleep and Abby was busy brooding. Hopefully Matt wasn't going crazy again or, potentially as bad, doing adult things with Elektra. Garrett made a mental note to throw out the bedding in their room and buy a new mattress once this was over.

Bringing up the files Chastity provided him, Garrett scowled angrily, pressing keys too hard as he scrolled down the page. Most of the data was pictures, pictures of a dumpster two blocks away from the motel Elektra was shot in. Then there were pictures of the gun found inside that dumpster. The 1936 Tokarev pistol Chastity gave him for his birthday eight years ago. The same gun Garrett gave his brother when he found out Jimmy wanted to see him for Christmas. The same gun that was missing one round. Unwillingly, Garrett pictured E lying in a lake of blood, white as a sheet when he and Abby burst into that room. He felt like puking, but didn't. Instead, he took the phone from his pocket and dialed. "Hey," he greeted after the third ring "Sorry I hung up on you."

"Fine."

"I am."

"Fine."

"Chastity."

"Marty."

"What?"

"Marty Byerson, the man you killed in the Plaza last week."

"He called the cops on us."

"Maybe. Call history for his cell was empty but I know that doesn't mean anything. No incoming or outgoing calls on the other line. If he did send the police to your apartment, he didn't do it from the hotel phone. You said the tape of Murdock killing that man was a fake."

"It is."

"John."

"It could be. Fisk manufactured evidence all the time."

"Useful trick, isn't it? Marty Byerson has several email and bank accounts. In one of those email accounts, there'll be messages from employees of employees of Wilson Fisk. Those messages will discuss the creation of a tape, a very incriminating tape."

"Marty didn't do that kind of work."

"No, but he knew people who did. One of those people is Luke Syford, a man the FBI arrested last month. During their investigation, the G-men will find evidence that Syford put together a surveillance video for Wilson Fisk."

"How do you think Syford is going to feel about this?"

"Do you care?"

"Good point."

"Of course I have to hide all this from my current and your former employer if I want to avoid thirty-plus felony counts. You have any idea how far I'm sticking my neck out here?"

"I always said we should run away together. You get caught, come play house with Rachel and I."

"You never said that, I'm not playing house with you and the ninja bitch, and you're welcome."

"Thanks Chastity. Really."

"Right."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart."

"Baby. Honey. Pumpkin."

"Phrase John, two words. Starts with 'F,' ends with 'F.'"

"Baby, I hate word games."

"Two words."

"Honey, I'm going through a kind of emotional crisis-"

"Fuck off, John."

"Pumpkin-"

"Actually you like doing that, so why don't you find a shiny object to play with instead?"

Chastity hung up on him.

* * *

"Can…can I help you with something?"

Chastity shook her head impatiently, watching Foggy squirm. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. Just sit there and read about the drills you're supposed to be selling," she ordered, staring at him critically. Not hideous, but not attractive either. Physique was pretty bad, but if she closed her eyes and pictured someone else…

After a bit more observation, the blonde shook her head again, pulling one of the handguns from her luggage and throwing it to Foggy. "My turn in the shower," she said, moving towards the bathroom. "Use that if anyone comes in."

"I'm not shooting anyone," he protested.

"You're right. It's not loaded."

"What am I supposed to do with an empty gun?"

"If no one tries to kill you while I'm showering? Play a solo game of cops and robbers. Otherwise, point it at your assailants and bluff."

"Bluff."

"You're a lawyer, bluffing is your living. Do it right and you might buy a few extra seconds."

Disappearing into the large bathroom before he could say any more, Chastity stripped off her clothes and hoped the hot water would help calm her down. There were times she forgot what an ass John could be. She'd considered starting something with Nelson just to spite him, but the attorney really wasn't her type.

As she cleaned herself up, Chastity promised that this would be the last time. This operation went way past duty, friendship, or even John's ability to exploit her weak spots. And wasn't that exactly what he always did? Master of guilt and manipulation. Putting aside the using her emotions as weapons, John couldn't even be bothered to feign gratitude anymore. No matter what he was going through, he could at least acknowledge what she was doing for him. This had to be the last time, no matter what. If she were smarter, she wouldn't have met with him at all. Problem was that she'd never been particularly smart where he was concerned. Bigger problem was that she still thought of him as John Graham, not the liar he'd turned out to be.

"_Stop being a baby," John ordered. He was sitting across from her in one of the chairs, her ankle resting in his lap._

"_Fuck," she replied grumpily, gripping the sides of her own chair as he cleaned and bandaged the ruin of her calf._

_Pausing in his ministrations, John offered her a quick glance. "Later maybe, after we get this cleaned up."_

"_Not a request," she shot back, wincing at the sting of antibiotic on injured flesh. _

"_Can't blame a guy for hoping," he said cheekily, reaching into the first aid kit at his side. "You get all your shots this year, Chast?"_

"_What was the pitch? Remember the speech they give when they're trying to hook you?"_

"_Serve your country, none of the red tape of the other divisions, criminal records a non-issue, play with guns and blow things up?"_

"_That's the one. They say anything in that pitch about getting mauled by Cujoesque beasts?"_

"_No, but they didn't say anything about spending Fourth of July weekend in Guatemala either. I think it all falls under the 'Other Duties' section of the job description. Ankle's broken."_

"_Wonderful. And where were you when Cujo was trying to eat through my throat?" the blonde asked, fingering the defensive wounds on her arms._

"_The big guys with the rifles and the batons? I was conversing with them about the beauty of their country. You feel warm?"_

"_South America in July, John. I've felt warm for the last eighteen hours."_

"_I want to know if Snoopy's incisors gave you an infection."_

"_How would you know, you skipped the field medicine seminar."_

"_No, I skipped the sexual harassment seminar. Job description didn't say anything about those either. I had a friend of a friend who worked as an EMT."_

"_Great."_

"_Trust me. You feel nauseous or dizzy, head hurt?"_

"_Yes," she said tiredly._

"_Yes to all of the above?"_

"_Yes."_

_Suddenly drained, Chastity sat back in the chair, watching his lips form soundless expletives. Carefully letting go of her leg, John stood up from the kitchen chair, moving next to her. "Arm around me," he ordered softly, and she obeyed without protest._

_John doing most of the work, they made it from the kitchen of the safehouse to the bedroom, a feat Chastity found unreasonably exhausting. Five minutes later, she was in a loose-fitting nightshirt, downing a glass of water and two aspirin. "Thanks for finally showing up. When you write the mission report, I wouldn't tell Armstrong what happened to that dog."_

_Shrugging, John sat on the edge of the bed, resting his finger against her neck. "He must've seen _Old Yeller._ But you're probably right; those PETA guys would shit themselves, even if it was just tranqs. Lay down more, your pulse is too fast."_

_She complied, sinking deeper into the pillows. "_Old Yeller_? You don't think the dog was rabid?"_

"_No, I think the dog was trained to be an asshole, but I'll revise my assessment if your mouth starts to foam. How's your head?" he asked, grazing a cut near her eye._

"_How do you think it is?"_

"_I think you need to get it examined, but that's a separate issue. Don't drop your gun next time."_

"_Don't run out of bullets and waste four tranq darts when there's a dog trying to kill me."_

"_I'll work on it," he replied, pulling out his phone. "Better tell them about the change in plans."_

"_What change in plans?"_

_John closed the phone, giving her a look. "We know they're selling the weapons tomorrow night, now we know where. That's the good part about you being accosted by Beethoven's maniacal cousin."_

"_Always the optimist."_

"_You're not going in, not with a shit ankle and an infection."_

"_Armstrong tasked us with this because of me. I'm the one who did all the undercover work, I know that building."_

"_You pretended to be Santiago's girlfriend for six months, hooray for you. I can still get across his property on my own."_

"_You don't know the kind of security that man uses. We're not talking guard dogs here; we're talking layers upon layers of access codes and protocols. He had a gun turret installed in his bathroom."_

"_Always wanted a TV in mine. Look, you can't run, you can barely walk-"_

"_I can still get in that house easier than you."_

"_Only if it's wheelchair accessible, babe. You know where all the surprises are?"_

"_Yes, but-"_

"_Sketch it out for me. We've got more than enough time. Something comes up, I'll have you on comm and you can get me out. We'll get the weapons and be home in time for a post Fourth of July hotdog."_

"_I don't like it. There's a reason Armstrong tasked both of us."_

"_Armstrong tasked both of us because that's procedure. When one of us is injured and thereby a danger to the other and the mission, procedure dictates a different approach. Tell me what I need to know about Santiago's systems and all will be well with the world. Mission will be accomplished and I'll be able to get Armstrong to fork over vacation time." Smirking, John pressed a quick kiss to her lips._

_She still didn't like it, but there wasn't much of an alternative. Scrapping the op wasn't an option, and she'd spent enough time in Enrique Santiago's home to walk it backwards and blindfolded. Assuming she could walk, which unfortunately wasn't the case. "Try not to die; you still owe me dinner from last month."_

"_Why do you think I mentioned the hot dog?" John asked._

"_No more dog talk, I think I hate dogs now."_

"_Sorry. I'll buy you some of those gas station nachos when we get home."_

"_All this wining and dining is too much," Chastity joked, pulling him down for another kiss. He didn't argue, running one hand through her hair and the other over her body, stopping when she hissed in pain. _

"_Chast?" he questioned sharply, pulling away from her._

"_Bruised ribs," she explained. "Nothing major."_

"_Sure they're just bruised?" he pressed worriedly._

"_I can breathe and I don't feel any bones moving, so yes. Your friend the medic forget to teach you about ribs?"_

"_Possibly. There was an awesome rib joint by his apartment though, all you can eat on Tuesdays and Thursdays." Picking up the phone he'd dropped next to him, John stood again and held down one of the numbers, walking absently around the room. "Sir," he greeted after a few moments. "It's agent Graham."_

_Chastity listened with one ear as he described the situation, a wave of tiredness crashing over her._

"_Yes, yeah, we made it to the safehouse. Yeah, we have the location sir, but I'll be taking point on this. Yes sir, I know agent McBryde was slated to…but agent McBryde was injured while we were getting the location of…at the time of her injury? I was busy getting shot at, sir. No, no I'm not being flip. Yeah." He was grinning by this point, his smile matching the one Chastity wore. "No, nothing life threatening, I've taken care of it. Chas-agent McBryde was attacked by an unknown subject. No, no one in our records. I will say that he bore a disturbing resemblance to Huckleberry Hound. No. No sir. Yes sir. It was a dog. There were dogs patrolling the... No, I don't think agent McBryde would appreciate my trivializing her situation like that. No, I'm very sorry."_

_The call lasted a few more minutes, John grinning and Chastity stifling giggles with her hand. She managed to wait 'til the conversation ended before she burst out laughing. Her ribs hurt like hell, but she tuned that out._

"_Sorry for trivializing your situation," John declared, throwing his phone on the dresser and stripping himself down to boxers. "I need to wash off the blood and dog drool. You need anything, yell and I'll be right there. After I finish lathering." Chastity called him something not entirely kind, but John simply waved and stepped into the small bathroom._

_She was still awake when he finished, tired but not ready to sleep. The adrenaline was gone, but the pain wasn't. Watching him pull on sweats and a T-shirt, she suddenly remembered one of his earlier comments. "You're asking for time off?"_

_Stretching the muscles of his shoulders, John gave her very quick glance before turning away. "Yeah."_

"_Going anywhere special?"_

_There was the slightest of pauses before he answered. "Christ no. Have to fly to Denver for a few days."_

"_When are you supposed to do this?"_

"_A month ago."_

"_What's the occasion?"_

_Another slight pause. "My brother and the waitress are expanding the family unit."_

"_She's pregnant?"_

"_Sadly."_

"_Other than having to buy a few extra presents here and there, why would that bother you?"_

_Sighing, he turned around to look at her. "I know my brother. He's not the kid type."_

_Blinking hard, Chastity turned onto her side, stifling a yawn._

"_Am I boring you?"_

"_Lots of running tonight, lots of running and lots of blood loss. My mother wasn't the kid type either."_

"_And what, you turned out just fine?"_

"_Could've turned out worse. Everyone complains about their upbringing, John."_

"_Uh huh. So what was wrong with your mother?"_

" _Very critical woman. She drank a lot in the mornings."_

"_Why does that always come off as a negative thing?"_

_Chastity spoke past another yawn. "Can I ask you something?"_

"_Thought we were discussing my problems, but sure."_

"_You have too many problems to discuss. What do you think of my breasts?'_

"_What?"_

"_Mom. She used to tell me that my breasts were too big and the right one was bigger than the left. Said I looked like a carnival freak."_

"_I…what…am I really supposed to answer this? Sounds like one of those minefield 'Do I look fat in this?' questions."_

"_You've never bothered to spare my feelings before, I know you'll give an honest answer."_

"_How much blood did you actually lose tonight?"_

"_I'm serious. I called Mom before we left; on the off chance I don't see her again. First she accused me of stealing a pot roast she made in 1984, than she asked if I'd scheduled breast reduction surgery yet."_

"_She went from pot roast to breast reduction?"_

"_She drank a lot in the mornings. And the afternoons. I think she's developing Atomizers."_

"_Yet her opinion still matters to you?"_

"_She's my mother, it always matters."_

"_Jesus Christ."_

"_I know. It's not normal is it?"_

"_That your mother fixates on your bra size? No, no it isn't."_

"_I know. The only person who was more interested in my breasts was you. _Is _you. And Greg Ickenham."_

"_Do we need to talk old boyfriends tonight?"_

"_We're not. I used to babysit for him He'd try to grab at my nipples. When he couldn't do that, he'd throw cookies down my shirt. My bra smelled like chocolate chips every time I left that house."_

"_Lovely story."_

"_His parents didn't believe me, but they tipped well and they couldn't find anyone else to watch him."_

"_Shocker. You should've taken off the bra and let them smell it."_

"_Don't think it didn't cross my mind. One night I had kind of a nervous breakdown over there after he did it one too many times. Greg was actually in bed for once, so I snuck into his room and stole his glasses."_

"_What?"_

"_He had glasses; I stole them off his nightstand. I may have been intoxicated when it happened."_

"_How old was this kid?"_

"_Four. Too young to be grabbing my breasts."_

"_So you stole his glasses."_

"_I may have been drunk at the time. Rationale was that if he couldn't see, he couldn't aim."_

"_Masterful. You do realize that you're a terrible human being."_

"_The boy was a pervert."_

"_Are you being serious or is this another one of your little jokes?"_

"_What little jokes?"_

"_The fake STD test."_

"_It was April Fool's Day, and you were the fool."_

"_Terrible human being."_

"_Yeah. You said your brother's not the kid type?"_

"_I don't know what I said; you've distracted me with your childhood horror stories."_

"_Lena's pregnant, Jimmy's not the kid type."_

"_He isn't."_

"_And what's that assessment based off of?"_

"_Experience."_

"_Your parents were both dead by the time you were six. If I had to raise a sibling like that-"_

"_Like what?"_

"_Like being sixteen and solely responsible for a little brother."_

"_How do you even know this?"_

"_You told me."_

"_When?"_

"_In Warsaw when you were drunk, in Sydney when you were really drunk, in Rome when those guys injected you with sodium penathol. You complain about your childhood a lot."_

"_I'm not complaining I'm relating. Relating the story of my childhood."_

"_And I'm telling you that when your brother has to become your parent, relationship dynamics are going to change."_

"_That's insightful," John said wryly._

"_It's common sense," Chastity argued. "His treatment of you doesn't necessarily match up with his treatment of your future niece or nephew."_

"_Why are you playing devil's advocate on this?" he wondered, crossing to the bed and slipping in next to her._

"_You were too slow and now there's a giant hole in my leg. Sometimes people you don't think would be good parents can surprise you. My mother's lunacy doesn't necessarily mean that _I'd _be a horrible mother."_

"_You stole a preschooler's glasses. Parents get pissed when kids lose glasses."_

"_I was drunk."_

"_The fact that you consider that a valid defense should end this argument for me."_

"_I was eighteen and he must've had a spare pair. Everyone with glasses has a spare pair. I could be a good mother if I tried."_

"_Before we go any further, I need to explain that if you start discussing the ever-increasing tick of your biological clock, I'm liable to shoot you in the head."_

"_I love your pillow talk."_

"_Not pillow talk, you said no to me in the kitchen. Your breasts are fine by the way; mom's a delusional lush."_

"_That's sweet to hear. You going to keep judging your brother by decisions he made as a teenager?" _

_John turned off the light switch, carefully pulling her against him. "When he was seventeen, Jimmy had taken over Dad's business. He was always buying guns or selling guns or teaching me how to buy or sell guns."_

"_What about using them?"_

"_I knew how to use a gun before I could talk. Jimmy was always saying how careful we needed to be. Shady people going in and out, bad neighborhood, I needed to be careful. He'd bitch at me because I didn't hold on to my gun, because I was six and I didn't feel like packing every minute of the day. And he said I wasn't being careful enough, so guess what happens? He sneaks into the house one day, grabs the back of my neck, and puts a gun to my head. And I'm pissing myself because I didn't know it was him. Thought it might be, kept saying his name, but Jimmy didn't answer. He stayed behind me and held on and pulled the trigger. Of course it's empty, so he drags me around, hits me in the face with this gun, and tells me for the thousandth time that I'm not careful enough."_

"_John…"_

"_What?"_

"_Was this a regular thing?"_

"_Define regular."_

"_You didn't tell me."_

"_There are lots of things I don't tell you," he replied quietly. "Anyway, I'm in a bad place now, and tomorrow I might die."_

"_Oh for God's sake. I'm not fucking sleeping with you, John. How much of that was true?"_

"_How much do you think?"_

"_Prick."_

"_Jimmy never laid a hand on me. He pointed a gun at me once, but it was one of those water shooter deals. He's nothing but an asshole with a control problem who impregnated a bitch with a personality problem."_

"_You have such an eloquent way of expressing yourself. Don't talk to me until we're specking out the weapons grab."_

"_Love you, Chastity."_

"_Hate you, John."_

"_Good night, Chastity."_

"_Fuck off, John."_

* * *

Training and workouts were her usual distraction of choice. Training, workouts, and sharpening the sais. Sharpening, polishing, re-polishing, then, if a distraction was still needed, sharpening again. Those were her typical routines, but Elektra wasn't facing a typical situation. It was harder to sharpen, polish, and re-polish with a busted shoulder and a very limited supply of polish. She'd been here for a week, trying not to kill Garrett and making sure to keep Rachel at arm's-length and trying not to compare the traumatized child with her traumatized teenager. And then there was Matt. She'd needed a fair bit of distraction lately, consuming a fair bit of polish and sharpening her fair share of knives. The typical routines weren't cutting it anymore, not in this atypical situation. She couldn't train without the damn shoulder tearing again, weapons detail lost its appeal after Matt tried to shoot himself, so what else was there?

Elektra stood near the pier, watching the sun glint against the lake. She didn't want to do this. It was masochistic, like deliberately reopening a wound. Like slitting one's wrists, the way Matt had last year. It was masochistic and dreadful and necessary. She couldn't be near Matt right now, not for more than a few minutes. She loved him and she knew last night wasn't truly his fault, but she couldn't be around him yet. Not yet. Garrett was just Garrett, Abby was being the sullen sixteen-year-old, and Rachel needed to be kept at a safe distance. Elektra had enough trouble with her own sullen teenager without forming attachments to Garrett's niece.

As she was concentrating on everything and nothing, anticipating and dreading the switch into Kimagure, Elektra realized that for the second time in as many minutes, she'd referred to Abby as 'hers.' 'Her' traumatized and sullen teenager. Listening to the call of some unknown bird, Elektra berated herself for the slip, that took place only in her mind. Abby wasn't 'her' anything. Her responsibility maybe, but Elektra had pretty well failed in that regard. As she stood by the water and waited for the visions, waited to see her responsibility die in front of her, Elektra was faced with a sudden and irrational desire. She wanted to see Mark, to apologize to Mark for failing in such a stupendous way. Because even if there was no hotel, no parking lot, she'd still failed to protect Abby. Failed to protect her from the ravages of their life.

She didn't want the flashes, didn't want the previews of death, but needed them nonetheless. It might be clearer this time. If Elektra could see more of what would happen, she could…what? Hide out? Avoid it? Wasn't that what she was doing already? It wasn't about clarification then. The visions would come anyway. Was she proving something by summoning them herself instead of waiting? Or was she simply losing her grip? Abby said that she thought her sanity was leaving when the nightmares about Matt and the knife turned into something else. Standing by the water and concentrating so that she wouldn't think of Matt killing himself, so that she could instead witness Abby being killed, Elektra wondered if there was something before this. Before Kimagure and Treasures and blind men and men with targets on their heads. She wondered if there was a time when she hadn't felt at risk of losing herself and her sanity. She knew there was, but couldn't call up any details about this long-past span of time. The time of two parents and two sets of hugs and kisses at night and a relatively laid-back training schedule might as well be from a dream. At this point, Elektra wouldn't be shocked to learn that it _was _a dream.

It took longer than usual. Seeing everything around her was difficult when Elektra didn't want to see at all. Late or not, the black-and-white flashes still delivered the same punch to the kidneys feeling she'd come to associate with seeing her protégé dead. Nothing changed; nothing became more or less visible. She hadn't expected anything different. Still, Kimagure was a better tool of distraction than polishing the sais, sharpening the sais, or plunging the sais into strategically placed sandbags. Anyway, the sand was hell to clean up after a four hour venting session.

Elektra stiffened when his arms encircled her. The reaction could've been from anger, but that wasn't the case. Abby sneaking up on her was par for the course. Matt doing the same was very much a different story. When the surprise left her, Elektra willed the anger to come and take its place. No luck. She could (and would) be angry again later. For now, she simply kept still, not leaning into the comfort, not rejecting it either. Wasn't this always how it was, hadn't it been like this from the first? Wanting to send him away and needing the opposite, stuck between two choices.

"Happen again?"

"How'd you know?"

"Your heart…everything slows when you do this."

Stupid question, one she should have and did know the answer to.

"God Elektra…"

"I'm fine."

"You're cold."

"It's cold out."

"Hands are shaking," Matt said worriedly.

He must've been referring to himself, because there was no way he was talking about her. Elektra Natchios spent her summer vacations throwing knives in her backyard. Papa wouldn't let her come to dinner until she'd done fifty figure-eights with both hands, until she'd learned to handle a sai with the same mindless ease others used when buttering bread. Her hands did _not _shake. Except when she was winging her way through a Kimagure ritual in a desperate attempt to bring Abby back. Abby, who she hadn't grown attached to, who wasn't her responsibility, and who certainly wasn't anything more than that.

"Breathe."

There was a familiar instruction. She'd given it to Abby countless times while trying to teach her control. Control the visions, control when they're allowed to come. Blind leading the blind on that one. Elektra responded the same way Abby usually did when being told to perform basic respiratory functions. "I am."

"Do it better."

Elektra was surprised by three things. One, Matt had turned her own words against her, an art form usually left to Abby. Two, those same words alerted her to the fact that she _wasn't _breathing properly. Rather, Elektra was holding in her breath the same way she held back the tears. Three, the aforementioned words were tinged with a hint of Matt's old humor. Elektra didn't know how to feel about this. Humor was better than homicidal, infinitely better than suicidal, but she couldn't take humor. Humor meant some form of happiness, and Matt shouldn't be allowed happiness, not for awhile.

"Elektra," he prodded, running his fingers over her stomach.

Her breath came as a choked sob. Without wanting to, Elektra reclaimed Matt's hands and gripped them in her own. "It's happening more often." Abby said that the visions of Matt with the knife came more frequently as the event drew nearer.

"It's not happening." Matt's voice held as much conviction as it ever had in front of a jury. "Elektra."

"I know," she agreed in a voice that wasn't hers.

"No. You need to hear me this time. She's going to be safe, I promise."

His promises shouldn't have meant much to her. He'd promised that everything would be fine on the night her father died. He'd promised he'd stay with her, he'd never leave. He'd promised that what they'd done to him wasn't that bad, he could deal with it. He'd broken his promises too many times, but Elektra found herself believing him. When Matt turned her around so they could have a proper embrace, Elektra didn't fight it. He shouldn't be allowed to make her okay again, not when half the fault for this moment of weakness lay on his shoulders. She shouldn't indulge again, not when she'd had a minor breakdown two days earlier. On the other hand, Matt was the only reason she hadn't lost sight of herself years earlier, and he was the only one who'd ever been able to convince her that there was still hope in the world. Abby did the same thing in a different way, but Abby was moody and withdrawn and looking for reasons to snap at her. Not to mention being dead in a goddamn parking lot that Elektra still couldn't get a decent view of.

Elektra made no sounds after that initial taking of air. They'd moved beyond tears, though Elektra couldn't be sure when that imaginary boundary had been crossed. She didn't cry, and she didn't cling to him with the same desperate intensity she had earlier. Despite that, it was enough. The hug was enough to quiet her fight-or-flight response and keep her together for another few seconds. It lasted longer than it should, reminding Elektra of her father. Nikolas, who always broke the hugs a little too soon, especially after his wife died. Leaning on other people too much was weak. So what did that mean for his daughter now, now that her life was centered on two people, neither of whom she could function without? Her dependence on Matt and Abby scared her, so of course she leaned farther into Matt's embrace, relieved when his arms tightened reassuringly.

It was cold out. Not freezing, but too cold for this. Still, Elektra didn't move. Matt's heartbeat against her ear was rock-steady, a counterpoint to everything racing so wildly across her mind. It was too cold for this, but Matt didn't move. Elektra came to a kind of epiphany then. Not a true revelation, because she'd known this about him almost from day one, but she'd forgotten a little bit. Forgotten when he was recovering, angry and vindictive and so unlike his true self. Forgotten when he refused to tell her the specifics of _why_ he'd undergone this personality shift. Forgotten again when he said that taking his own life was some heroic attempt at protection. She forgot from time to time, but Elektra remembered now. She remembered the answer to a question Garrett had been asking since he learned the full extent of Matt's troubles.

'Why the fuck do you put yourself through this bullshit?'

He'd never said it directly, but Elektra saw it in Garrett's eyes every time he looked at her now, heard him in her head as if he was really there. The easy answer, that she loved Matt, wasn't enough anymore. The true answer lay in what he was doing now. Matt wasn't like her father, he wouldn't push her away just to prove that she could stand on her own. He'd stand here in the chill breeze all day if he had to, if she wanted that from him. He'd wait, like he waited for five years. He hadn't given up, even when she'd returned to him as someone else, someone ugly.

Elektra didn't make him wait all day, though the knowledge that he would've done so was as comforting as the hug itself. They walked back to the house in silence, the main room empty when they stepped into it. "How long has this been happening?" Matt asked suddenly.

Stupid question, one he already knew the answer to. "Three weeks."

"That's not strange to you?" he wondered.

Not the word she'd have used, but it was a good description of the look on his face. "It's happened to Abby-"

"But not you," Matt pressed, absently making his way to the kitchen. "When have you ever seen something like this before? When have you ever been able to see more than a few days ahead?"

Stupid question, one Elektra knew the answer to. What she didn't know was how such a question hadn't occurred to her before. The visions always came true, but they never came like this. Same thing over a period of weeks. Abby was the Treasure, but Elektra was a dropout who'd only gained enough skill with Kimagure to keep herself alive. Once, she'd seen something that happened four days later, but that was it. Four days seemed to be her outside limit. Why then had things suddenly changed?

Elektra looked at Matt in shocked puzzlement, barely hearing the sounds of movement upstairs. Where the hell had her mind been? Had she become so used to Abby's version of Kimagure that something like this, something well beyond her own capabilities hadn't seemed odd to her?

Matt squeezed her hand gently, bringing it to his lips. It was a small gesture, big enough to break Elektra from her thoughts and convey a clear enough message. It would be okay. No matter what happened or what was happening, the two of them together would make it okay.

Abby's reappearance caused the moment to end. "Thought you were watching Rachel?"

"Rachel's awake," Abby replied, not looking her guardian in the eye.

The tone made Elektra want to snap, before she remembered the goddamned parking lot. Matt glanced in her general direction, silently urging her to be calm. Elektra wasn't the only one to notice that glance. The only time she'd experienced anything close to this was right after Mark died. Abby was still acquainting herself with Matt, and she hadn't quite gotten used to seeing the adults together. She was grieving, pretending that she wasn't grieving, and everything Matt or Elektra did or didn't do seemed to elicit a negative response. Eventually, some of the pain eased and Abby realized that Matt wasn't trying to take anyone's place. She'd caught them in a semi-romantic moment one afternoon and, when they proceeded to break apart like teenagers, Abby told them to stop acting like roommates and just shut their friggin' door at night.

Presently, Abby was glaring at them in a way she hadn't done for a long time. "How are you not mad about this?" she asked, pretending Matt wasn't in the room.

"Abby."

"What? You're acting like nothing happened."

"I'm not," she replied honestly. "You want yelling and screaming, you want things to be like they were?"

"Whatever."

"I don't have the energy for it. I don't. There's a kid upstairs, Fisk is still out there-"

"So is Bullseye," Abby cut in. "Bullseye and the cops and whoever else wants to kill us this week. But that all takes a backseat now because everything gets to be about Matt again." Turning on her heel, Abby stormed outside, causing the already-abused back door to groan on its hinges.

Sighing, Elektra made to go after her, knowing that the emotional stuff was not her thing. Blind leading the blind. Matt caught her arm before she could go anywhere. "Let me."

"Is that a good idea?"

A new voice entered the conversation. "No, but the dressing up like a demonic being and the trying to kill himself were both so inspired. You know how messy it would've been in that bathroom? I should charge you for shooting up my wall."

Elektra scowled as the hitman entered the room, but Matt didn't seem to care. "Do that," he agreed.

"You think I'm joking but I'm not. Mom always said don't play guns in the house."

"You asked me to help with something earlier."

Garrett shook his head, gesturing towards the door. "Older kid before younger kid. And don't think that'll get you out of paying for my wall. Favorite wall in the house and you went and defiled it."

Saying nothing, Matt shot Elektra a quick glance before following Abby outside.

"Better hope Abby didn't get into your sharp object collection," Garrett remarked. "The door slam exit was suitably cliché."

Elektra said nothing.

Rolling his eyes, Garrett went so far as to snap his fingers in front of her. "The guy who offed her father is still alive, you nearly bled to death…" He stopped there, features hardening momentarily. "This thing with Murdock, and she had to miss pizza day at school."

Elektra kept silent. The guilt wouldn't help things, but _she _couldn't help the guilt. Or anger, or frustration…

"Jesus fucking Christ," Garrett went on, clearly exasperated. "She's a good kid, in spite of your involvement in her parenting."

"Her parents are dead."

"Breaking news live from the scene. Why do you do that? You try to distance yourself from her and it makes no fucking sense. I could understand three years ago, but considering how things turned out, doing it now is way too little, way too late."

Was that what she was doing? Old habits died hard, but was she really-

"She's pissed off and upset. Breaking fucking news. Isn't that the natural state of things from twelve to twenty-one? I'd think the kid was cognitively delayed if she _wasn't _bitching and moaning. The circumstances suck, but that's not on you. Her parents being dead isn't on you, the Treasure title is not on you, none of that."

"Is this supposed to improve my mood?"

"Your mood's been stagnant since the Watergate scandal, but you look guilty and it's making me nervous. Elektra I knew didn't do guilt."

"This isn't about guilt."

"Whatever you say, but don't let what this _is _about drive you crazier than you already are. Abby will be fine, she's a good kid. After seeing her father die, seeing you die-"

"She wasn't actually there."

"But the magic of Kimagure gave her a pretty good view, didn't it? You die, Bullseye, this Matt thing…" He stopped again, and Elektra saw that question in his eyes. "Christ Elektra, you're lucky the kid hasn't whacked out and turned into Bloody fucking Mary."

"Typhoid."

"Same damn difference," Garrett muttered. "Point is, and you know this, Abby's reacting to a bad situation. Bad situation gets better, she'll be fine again and all will be good with the world."

So she should be satisfied because Abby hadn't turned into a sociopathic murderess. Garrett had an interesting way of viewing things. "Thanks, that was helpful."

He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen table. "I do or say anything nice and you get all twitchy."

She couldn't really argue that one. "Thanks. For Foggy."

"You're not obligated, Murdock already expressed his gratitude.

He had, and Elektra knew that, but somehow that didn't get her off the hook.

"Hell, please don't do that. My being nice makes you twitchy, you're being nice makes _me _twitchy, and we both carry weapons. You think that's a safe combination?"

"You didn't need to do that, so thank you."

"I'm not holding it over you, E." Sighing, he ran his fingers through short, dark hair. "You need to understand something, and it's going to make you all twitchy again, but you need to know the score."

No. No, no, no. He was looking at her in a way that was not acceptable. He'd said he cared, and she must've known that he did, otherwise she wouldn't have come to him. He'd also said last week that he wasn't making a love declaration.

"McCabe helped you. He did that knowing it was a stupid move." Garrett's voice went considerably softer. "You didn't realize this, but you meant something to him. And there's only one reason he let himself die for you. There's only one reason I told Chastity to go to New York." He paused again, looking deeply into her eyes. "It's the suit. The fucking red costume is so amazing. The fact that you sneak around in a bright red costume-"

Elektra turned to walk away.

"The costume affects the brain, shuts down rational thought. When McCabe said you could stay with him, guarantee you he was thinking of that damn red suit. Puts the Santa Claus getup to shame."

"Do you ever stop?"

"No, because when I try being nice, you think it's okay to stab me. Murdock will be off the hook."

She froze, turning back to look at him. As Garrett stood up from the table, a small coughing fit wracked his body. Covering his mouth with his hand, Garrett poured water from the sink, wiping his lips with his hand. "Abby's fault," he said, dropping the glass in the sink. "She had that cold or whatever and now she's infected me."

Elektra crossed her arms, impatiently waiting for an explanation.

"Is he going to hear this, or will I have to repeat myself?"

Elektra shook her head. Matt could be listening. On the other hand, he could be tuning out, entirely focused on whatever was happening with Abby. "Just talk."

"Would you wear the costume in the house? Just once?" She scowled at him and he told her, told her about Marty and Syford and making it look like the tape wasn't real.

"Pinning it on someone else," Elektra said quietly, wondering if Matt was listening.

"You've spent too much time with Murdock," Garrett observed. "Syford's a criminal with or without the tape, and we're not actually pinning the murder on him. You and I both know that the tape _could've _been faked. Even if Murdock thinks he remembers killing Mitchum, who's to say that's real? The Hand fucked with his memory, probably more than even he knows. And even if he did kill that man, there's nothing to do about it now. Guy beats on street thugs after he finishes cross examining them, then there's you. If he wants to be virtuous, he should have you arrested, then apologize for escaping from jail."

He was talking as though Elektra was the one who might have a problem with it. And, knowingly or not, Garrett had just brought up another problem "Rykers?"

"Security footage shows that Murdock was taken hostage by Ethan. He was taken from that jail against his will. As far as him beating on a few cops and prison guards, he was defending himself, and Fisk has the whole damn city corrupted again. You can thank me for my brilliance now. Ideally by posing for me in the costume. Sexy as hell, I ever tell you that?"

"I thought thanks made you nervous."

"That costume makes me something else."

If Elektra had known that Chastity McBryde thought up the plan Garrett was taking credit for, she might've had something to say about it. If Rachel hadn't chosen that moment to join them, she might've had something else to say.

"Uncle Garrett."

"Rachel," he answered. There was a look in his eyes, something Elektra hadn't seen there before, at least not while he interacted with the girl.

"I have a migraine."

"A migraine. You shouldn't even know what a migraine is."

"You said it would go away if I slept. You lied."

"I didn't lie, Rachel," he said tersely.

"Can I have aspirin?"

"You're too young."

"Because you used all the pills for yourself?" Rachel asked, small fingers massaging her temple.

For all Garrett's talk about how Abby's comments shouldn't bother her, Elektra couldn't help noticing his reaction. His expression hardened. His body seemed to stiffen and deflate simultaneously.

"Go to your room," Garrett ordered.

"Daddy said that you-"

"I don't _care _what Daddy said! I don't care what he's told you about what a horrible person I am, I just want you to tell me the truth! Tell me about the tape, or the bull's eye man, tell me something other than the crap your father liked to spread about me. Can you do that, can you tell me what Daddy was doing before he died? "

The child stared at her feet.

"God _dammit_, Rachel."

"Garrett come on-"

"I'm talking here, okay E? Can I please talk to my niece about her father?"

"Garrett-"

"No. Rachel? You have something to share with me or are you just going to keep up Daddy's rhetoric?"

Rachel looked at him through tearful eyes, saying nothing.

"Then go to your room," her uncle repeated. "You sit there and you stay there until I tell you something else."

Gaze darting from one adult to the other, she shot Garrett a final glare before rushing upstairs. The door slam that followed was suitably cliché. Elektra was too surprised to truly react. She'd seen him get short with the girl, seen a few moments of tension between them, but Garrett's outburst was totally unexpected.

"Don't fucking look at me like that," he snapped. "Like you're the paragon of self-control." Shaking his head, Garrett put his back to Elektra, looking at nothing. "She looks like him. Jimmy. I always thought she looked more like that fucking waitress, but she looks like him, too. Won't tell me anything important, but no problem repeating the trash that came out of Daddy's mouth. He's the one with the fucking brainwashing material and the lunch dates with Bullseye, and I'm the bad one. Murdock can read a lie, right?"

Elektra blinked, unsure what Matt had to do with anything. "When he's listening for it."

"Good. Because when he gets back from making nice with Abby, he's going to help me figure out what the hell is going on here."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **Hey all, it turns out that I'm still alive. Sorry it's been so long, but we're inching our way towards the end here, and I ended up rethinking some of my outline for the final act of this monster. That being the case, I wanted to make sure I had my proverbial ducks in a proverbial row instead of rushing along and writing myself into a proverbial corner. Last time, I promised you a cliffhanger ending. As is so often the case, I accidentally lied. These chapters are so much shorter in my head than they are when I sit down in front of the keyboard, and I simply couldn't stomach writing something as long as chapter 19 was. So, some of the good stuff will (hopefully) happen in the next update. Also, I'm posting this right before I leave town for a bit, so the editing job is probably quite deplorable. However, I'm anxious to post this section before everyone loses interest, and it might be nice to have some reviews when I get back from my mini-vacation. Rest assured, I'll clean up the rough spots after I get home, so please bear with me until then. As usual, read it, enjoy it, and review it before you pick up your coats.

* * *

Abby heard him approach, but did her very best to pretend otherwise. After storming out, she should've headed for the woods, forcing him to put a little more effort into catching up with her. Instead, Abby had retreated to a small outdoor table behind the house and sat down to wait.

"Hey," Matt said quietly. He kept a fair bit of distance between them, crossing his arms in the cool morning breeze.

Abby said nothing. She didn't trust herself to speak around him, not without getting herself in trouble. She'd lost it in the kitchen, and now here they were. At least he wasn't crowding her. It would be hard enough listening to another apology without being crowded as well.

"Don't take it out on Elektra. You've got every reason to be mad at me, but don't waste the anger on her."

Grimacing, Abby recalled her rude and childish treatment of Elektra. After suffering through this pathetic apology, she'd have to make one of her own. "I can't take it out on you if you're hiding in your room, can I?"

"You're right," Matt sighed, bowing his head slightly. "You can't. I was being a coward and I'm sorry."

Clenching her fist on the table, Abby let the anger flare again. He wasn't a coward, that was obvious. He wasn't a coward; he just did an incredibly good job of acting like one sometimes.

"I'm sorry," he continued, tentatively stepping forward and sitting next to her at the picnic table. They were on the same bench, facing opposite directions, Abby with her legs under the table as she looked towards the woods, Matt sitting backwards, staring in the direction of the cabin. Abby stiffened when he got closer.

"I assume you told Elektra that. About five million times."

"Pretty accurate guess," Matt admitted.

"She want to hear it?"

There was a pause. Abby was surprised by the venom in her own voice, and wondered if he was as well. "No," Matt conceded. "She didn't."

Nodding to herself, the teen threw him a very quick, very withering look, frustrated that he wouldn't be able to see it. "So why do you think I'd want to hear it either?"

"I don't. But I don't have anything left to say. I don't have reasons or excuses, but I still need to apologize. You don't need to accept that apology, but you do need to hear it."

Privately, Abby thought that he did have _some _reasons, _some _excuses. The Hand, the file, the brainwashing. He wasn't using them though, and somehow that made things worse. The feelings of betrayal and resentment would be easier to hold on to if he were still using his experiences to justify his idiocy. Shooting him another glare, Abby ignored the sting in her eyes and the lump in her throat. "You know what I need, Matt? What me and Elektra and Foggy and a lot of other people need? You. Around. Not you sitting next to E's dad where we put you last time."

As usual, Matt didn't point out that the man they'd buried hadn't been him. The distinction was utterly unimportant. "You're right. E told me the same thing already."

"I know I'm right," Abby snapped, hating herself for sounding so young. Closing her eyes to get rid of the sting there, she attempted to calm down. "Speaking of telling things, she knows, doesn't she? What happened to you."

"Not all of it," Matt replied. "But yeah, I told her some things. You can tell?"

"You can tell," Abby confirmed. She should be happy that Matt took her advice from the previous day, but she wasn't. She wasn't happy at all, and she didn't see that changing any time soon.

"Does she…does Elektra look at me differently?"

For a moment, because she was scared and pissed off and exhausted, Abby was tempted to lie. Howwever, she couldn't and wouldn't do that to him, no matter how much she wanted to. "Like with pity?" Abby asked, "Or like she thinks you didn't do enough to fight back?"

"Either or."

"No. Well yeah, I guess, but I don't think it's because of whatever you told her. She looks at you the same way I do now."

"And how's that?"

Again, Abby felt like lying, felt like hurting him. This whole thing was completely screwed up already, and Matt had almost made it so much worse. Again, Abby swallowed hard and offered him the truth. "Like she's grateful as hell that you're still here, like she can't believe you made it through that. Like she lost a huge amount of respect for you last night."

Sighing, Matt twisted around to look in Abby's direction. "I don't blame her. Or you."

"You shouldn't," Abby countered. She was being childish and she knew it. "Dammit Matt. I get what they did to you, I get that you've been dealing with major PTSD for like a year now, but—"

"PTSD?"

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"I'm familiar with the concept," said Matt, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "I didn't know you'd made a diagnosis."

The teenager shrugged. "I Googled a lot during computer class, once we got back to New York. Actually, that's probably why I flunked computer class."

Matt's eyebrows climbed upwards. "You flunked a class?"

"I flunked two classes, but the other one was while you were gone. But since you tried to kill yourself and since I was pulling good grades until the fake guidance counselor tried kidnapping me, can we skip the academic responsibility lecture?"

"Fair enough. It's just hard to believe that—"

"—that Elektra the perfectionist grade Nazi let me slack off that much?" The older woman was almost fanatical about Abby and school and the teenager working to her potential. Matt wasn't much better, but he'd always been nicer about it than Elektra was. Mostly, he was nicer about _everything _than Elektra was and, after hearing a bit about the late Nikolas Natchios, Abby wondered if the older woman realized how much her father seemed to have rubbed off on her. Catching her mind wandering, the teen returned to the matter at hand. "There was stuff going on," she stated. "At first, E missed you so much that she wasn't really…she was there but she wasn't there. Then you were back, and it was all about keeping you from doing what you almost did last night. Believe me, there were stranger things going on than her not caring about my report card."

"Like?"

He was asking a question he didn't truly want the answer to, but Abby gave it to him anyway. She usually avoided pointing out that Matt wasn't the only one who'd suffered recently, but today was different. Today, she felt like hurting him a little. "For starters? Elektra bought a floral print dress."

"Excuse me?" Matt questioned.

"Floral print," Abby repeated. "Yellow floral print. It was kind of the freakiest thing ever, including the time the tattoo snakes almost killed me. A month after the funeral, this social worker called and said she needed to come over and make sure my home situation wasn't totally screwed up. Of course, it _was _totally screwed up, so Elektra went all psycho about fooling her so I wouldn't get carted off by the state. Bought this freaky flower dress, hid the knives extra well, and picked up a bunch of _Good Housekeeping_ magazines to throw on the table. Personally, I thought she was acting like Mrs. Rogers on drugs, but the social worker bought it, so I guess that's how good guardians are supposed to act. They exchanged cookie recipes."

Matt was working to keep his jaw closed. "Cookie recipes?"

"Brownie too, now that I think about it. You weren't around to back her up, so besides having Foggy make sure all the paperwork was okay, she must've figured the only other thing to do was to pretend that I wasn't a problem child and pretend that she missed her calling as a kindergarten teacher."

"She never told me," Matt said quietly.

"She doesn't tell you a lot of crappy things that happened last year because she doesn't want you wallowing in guilt," Abby replied tightly. Biting her lip, Abby softened her voice, looking at Matt for the first time since he'd come out here. "She doesn't…she doesn't do so great by herself. I mean, I think she needs you there to keep her from…from going back to the way she was. And I…I wasn't really helping," the girl admitted shamefully.

"You're a kid," Matt replied instantly, "You shouldn't have had to-"

"No," Abby refuted. "I've played that card before, and I don't think it works anymore." The young warrior hadn't felt like a kid in a very, very long time. "You guys helped me so much after Dad died, and I should've helped her. Elektra was shutting down and so was I, but I was caught up in my own stuff and I just…" Damn, now who was taking a dive in the guilt pool? Besides, she was supposed to be mad at Matt, not herself.

"Hey. Listen to me. Nothing that happened was your fault. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

"You didn't!" Abby exclaimed, frustration getting the better of her. He had hidden himself from Elektra for months, but Abby hadn't exactly gone out of her way to out him about that, so she couldn't really comment. "Look, I know this is asking a lot from a guy who spent ten years of his life in a devil costume because he couldn't stop the unstoppable, but can you quit blaming yourself already? You think the Hand would have the same amount of power over you if you just laid it all on them instead of you?"

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

Sighing, he rested a tentative hand on her arm before pulling it away. "Are you telling me that you don't feel responsible for your dad's death?"

The question was voiced so quietly, so gently, yet Abby still felt like she'd taken a punch to the throat. That was a very underhanded, very lawyer-esque, very not Matt-like way to take things. Granted, some part of her would always feel responsible for Dad's death, despite constant assurances from Matt and Elektra that it wasn't her fault. She couldn't have known, she couldn't have done anything; she would've died if she'd been there. All of that was true, and none of it mattered. Mark died to protect her, died because of what his daughter was. That Abby had no control over her own destiny as the Treasure was hardly the issue. Blinking past the sting in her eyes, Abby scowled at the blind man. "You said Dad wasn't my fault."

"He wasn't. Do you believe me when I tell you that?"

"Yes," Abby replied defiantly.

Matt tilted his head sideways.

"Sometimes," the girl relented. "Sometimes not."

"Exactly. And you didn't kill anyone."

Choosing not to point out that she very much wanted to kill someone, namely Bullseye, Abby shook her head in the negative. "Neither did you, really. You weren't yourself, and you couldn't have fought the brainwashing or whatever without help."

"Still."

"Still, I guess the pot and the kettle really are the same color. But you can't…you can't do what you did last night."

"No, I can't. I'm not going to."

"It's not like we aren't screwed as it is."

"We're going to get out of this," Matt promised. "I know it's a mess, but we'll get out of it."

"How?"

Matt shrugged, the hint of a smile brushing his lips. "Together?"

"That's corny and cliché."

"True."

"I've got a better idea. How about you badass adults go fix it, and I'll stay here with Rachel and watch Cinemax?"

"Good. Sounds like a plan."

Abby grimaced. "I was kidding."

"I figured. You'd make things a whole lot easier if you weren't though."

"Easy is boring. And I know Elektra worries about me, but don't tell her I said that."

Matt glanced downward, his face showing something Abby didn't know how to read. "Elektra's not the only one who worries, Abby."

"Yeah," the teen agreed. "And she also worries about you, and she's not the only one. She forgive you yet?"

"I doubt it."

"Cool, she shouldn't."

Matt looked at a spot near his right shoe. "That respect she lost for me last night?"

"Lousy wording," the girl admitted. "It isn't lost so much as misplaced."

"And you?"

Abby stared at her jeans. "I can deal."

The lawyer pinned her under an intense gaze.

Abby clenched her right hand over her knee. "I can deal…as long as you don't trash our screwed up lives. Last time wasn't your fault, but this time would've been. I told you, Elektra doesn't do well when you're not around."

"And you?" he repeated.

"Stop fishing for compliments," Abby snapped. She'd already let slip that she needed him too, what more did he want?

Bowing his head apologetically, Matt half-rose from the table. "Do you want me to leave?"

That would be good. Maybe. "I was here first."

Quickly schooling his features, the lawyer stood up properly and moved towards the cabin.

Abby was up and calling his name before she could think about it. Her parents were gone. Elektra nearly bled to death last week. For a year, everything had been about getting Matt back to sanity, and just when they'd all thought things were relatively safe, Garrett found a little audio file on his dead brother's computer. His dead brother who was also Rachel's father. Rachel. Her replacement. A younger version of herself. Rachel who knew Bullseye. Bullseye, who'd killed Mark, and Elektra, and almost killed Matt. Matt, who, besides Elektra, was the only person she had, the only person who could possibly get it. Matt, who'd almost been gone last night.

Abby remembered thinking about how she'd never hugged him. In two years, she'd never had much physical contact at all with him. She hugged him now, clinging desperately as she told herself not to cry. Matt was obviously surprised, and when he didn't respond immediately, the teen tried to pull back. Then his arms were around her, keeping her in place, and Abby thought she might die from sheer emotion. She hadn't hugged a guy—any guy—since Dad died. This was nothing like that, but somehow it was kind of the same. Garrett was right. Matt did love both herself and Elektra, and it _was_ disgustingly obvious. Abby hated him for last night, but she loved him too, and she wished she didn't love him. Not loving him meant one less person to lose.

Oh well. Elektra had already fought that battle and lost miserably. Abby wasn't faring much better, but at this point she didn't care. At this point, she simply needed to hold on to him and curse him silently and be thankful she hadn't lost anyone else. Not yet at least.

* * *

Fisk wasn't surprised to find Bullseye in his office. After the hours by Maya's bedside, he'd finally deemed it necessary to get back to work. He'd had his driver take the scenic route, knowing how impatient Bullseye could be.

"Morning," the Irishman greeted, leaning casually against one of the windows. "Beautiful day isn't it?"

Lips curling in a scowl, Fisk took his place behind the desk, swiveling the chair so he and the assassin faced each other. "Give me a reason not to kill you where you stand."

"I'll give you three. One, why bother getting up, you've had a long night. Two, I did you a favor. Three, you _know _that I did you a favor, and if you were going to kill me, it would've happened already."

"You went after one of my people."

"Yeah, that's right. And by doing that, I proved the girl is incompetent. Feel free to thank me any time."

Fisk sat forward in his chair. "I have my own methods for evaluating employees. You come near her again, and I _will _have you eliminated."

"You always were overly dramatic," Bullseye countered. When the other man didn't respond, Bullseye took a moment to really look at him. Chuckling, he allowed a smile that was more shocked incredulity than anything else to break onto his face. "You actually care for her. As a person. Wow. Is she that good in bed? Wouldn't surprise me, body like that…"

"She's off limits. In every way possible. Don't forget that."

"All right then, I'll have to cancel those flowers I sent to her hospital room. Roses. She like roses as much as you do, Fisk?"

"I have appointments to keep, so I suggest you get to the point."

"Fine. Based on the incident last night, I'm going to take a guess and say that you're short-staffed. I know we've had this talk before, but I think you'll agree that things have changed."

Wordlessly, Fisk turned the chair long enough to retrieve a folder from his desk drawer, holding it up to display the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the front. "You're right about that."

"So you finally got your answer. Ah well, can't always keep the mystery, can we?"

"No one keeps me from what I want," Fisk replied, remembering their last meeting. Remembering how irked he'd been at not knowing how Bullseye was still alive.

"Uh huh. Well, looks like we both owe the government a debt."

The bald man nodded minutely, paging through documents in the folder. The U.S. government helped bring him back to power with their plea deal, and the U.S. government helped bring the man in front of him back from the dead. God bless America. Finding the page he was looking for, Fisk held it up for Bullseye's inspection, a smirk playing on his lips.

Skimming the paper, Bullseye gestured in a way meant to show indifference. "Small problem, something I bet you could help me with. All that money, all those smart people you could talk to."

"And why exactly would I want to help you?" Fisk asked, returning the document to the folder, clasping the folder loosely in his right hand.

Grinning smugly, Bullseye replied, "That girl we discussed last time, you never got around to finding her. Since that's not my file you're holding, I'm going to assume your info guys came through for you again."

"They always do," Fisk acknowledged. Even if it sometimes took them much too long to do it. Glancing at Garrett Pierce's name on the front of the folder, the crimelord regarded Bullseye speculatively. There were too many coincidences. The assassin's connection to Pierce, Pierce's niece being the one he'd spent over a year looking for. Elektra going to the ex-government agent for help. The world couldn't possibly be that small. Or perhaps he was wrong about that. "What do you know?"

"You want the kid. Lots of people want the kid. Last guys I worked for, they wanted the kid."

"I thought you were having job troubles?"

"Something came up."

Tilting his head slightly, Fisk played a hunch. "The Hand?"

"Turns out most of their guys were slaughtered awhile back. They were short-staffed, too."

"They'd have to be if they resorted to hiring you."

"I'm going to let that one go, seeing as how your people don't seem to be doing much better."

Fisk didn't refute him on that. "If the Hand hired you, why come to me?"

Bullseye shrugged, his features darkening slightly. "Nostalgia, better rates, the usual reasons."

, Fisk tapped the manila folder against his desk. "But money isn't the main draw this time, is it?"

"Don't taunt me, Fisk. You read the file, you know what I want. The Hand, they talked a good game, but they weren't going to deliver. You, I know I won't have that problem with you."

"Assuming you can get me what I need, assuming there's a way to fix your problem."

The assassin laughed derisively. "I came back from a morgue slab; I think you can get some people to help me with this."

"Probably. What do you know about Rachel Vance?"

"Sweet kid, good artist. Father put her through the wringer."

The bald man frowned in puzzlement. James Pierce had died protecting his daughter from the team Fisk sent after them. "He hurt her?"

Gesturing vaguely towards the file in Fisk's hand, Bullseye grunted noncommittally. "Things you do to family."

Though he was still confused, Fisk chose to let that go for now. "What's the timeline here? You came to me for a job-"

"You threw me on my ass," Bullseye interjected.

"Then what? The Hand had you look for the girl?" That part was also confusing. He'd been under the impression that the Hand were too busy licking their wounds to pursue the child. It seemed he'd been misinformed, and he hated being misinformed. Someone would pay for that later.

"Not exactly. I think we should agree on some terms before I spill your competitor's secrets."

"Tell me what you know, what you have to bargain with, then we'll talk negotiations."

"What I know? I'm a knowledgeable man Fisk, that could be time consuming. I thought you had appointments to keep?"

"Schedules have to be flexible, and mine is. What've you been up to since I saw you last?"

* * *

Elektra was still in the kitchen when Abby and Matt returned. Since Abby wasn't glaring daggers anymore, the former assassin had to assume Matt's apology hadn't been a total failure. Sitting in a chair at the table, Elektra watched Abby approach, watched the teen stare at the ground until they were directly in front of each other.

"Sorry," the girl murmured, looking her mentor straight in the eye. "For before," she added. "I was being-"

"A disrespectful brat?" Elektra suggested coolly. Matt, hanging back near the door, shot her a warning look. Elektra ignored it. She understood that Abby was stressed, but it had been three years, and the girl was still too cocky. At times, she still thought it acceptable to cross her superiors for no reason. Elektra hadn't liked it three years ago, and she hated it now.

"Sorry," Abby repeated.

The girl's expression was rather pitiful, which only served to vex Elektra more. Abby was still searching for her approval, her acceptance. This irked the older woman to no end. Her opinion shouldn't matter, yet to Abby it did. She wasn't a person to look up to, yet somehow Abby managed to do just that. It was incredibly frustrating.

Abby was giving her a pleading look, and opening her mouth to say something else when a wry chuckle interrupted the moment. Garrett, who'd been trying to speak to Rachel after blowing up at her before, sauntered in through the living room, an irritating smirk playing over his lips. "Something amuse you?" Elektra asked, turning her scowl from Abby to him.

"As a matter of fact, yes" Garrett replied instantly, emptying the fridge of its last soda. "You, giving someone crap for having an attitude problem. The walking attitude problem lecturing on respect. That most definitely amuses me."

Abby smiled a little and covered ir with her hand. Elektra thought she saw Matt's lips twitch upward, but chose to dismiss it as a trick of the light. Silence reigned for all of ten seconds.

Crossing her arms, Abby pinned Garrett under a suspicious gaze, noting how his eyes kept traveling between her and Matt. "What's up?"

"For the last week? My blood pressure, which is through the roof. Roof's up, too."

"Informative," Abby drawled. "Where's Rachel?" Usually, the blonde was glued to her within seconds of the teen entering a room.

Garrett downed most of his beverage before answering. "She uh, she's not much into the talking thing right now."

"What'd you do?" Abby demanded to know.

"Abby," Elektra warned. He shouldn't have snapped at the child, but Elektra wasn't prepared to referee a fight with her cocky, combative protégé and her cocky, combative ex-lover.

"What?" Abby replied. All hints of shame at her recent behavior were gone, replaced by a fierce protectiveness for the traumatized little girl. That protectiveness scared Elektra to death, even as it brought an undeniable sense of pride.

"I screwed up, all right? Rachel was going to tell me more of whatever garbage Jimmy put in her head, and I lost it."

"So you spend days trying to find out what your brother was doing and saying to her, then when she tries to tell you, you scare her off with your winning personality. Good move."

"Abby." This time it was Matt who spoke, trapping her under a reproving gaze.

Draining the rest of his soda, Garrett placed the can on the counter, pointing his chin at Elektra. "Attitude Problem," he said, addressing the brunette. "Tell Young Mistress Attitude Problem to leave me alone."

"Young Mistress?" Abby parroted incredulously.

"You're going to make some man very, very, homosexual someday."

"Garrett," Elektra snapped.

The hitman held up his hand for silence, keeping focused on Abby. "Can you please go up there and get Rachel down here?"

"You going to yell at her again?"

"No," Garrett replied. "I'm going to ask her what the hell happened to her, and Polygraph Guy over there is going to tell me when she's lying."

"If she's lying," Abby countered. "You going to yell at her if she does?"

"No one's yelling at anyone," Matt interjected. "I'll get her to talk about it."

"Now I feel loads better," Garrett muttered darkly.

Mouth forming a thin line, the attorney stared coldly in his direction. "You want my help, you let me talk to her. If she's been exposed to anything close to what I have, you're not going to know how to deal with that."

"And you do?" Garrett questioned. "You've handled it so well that you were going to shoot yourself last night?'

"Just shut up," Abby said abruptly. Despite her anger with Matt, that protective streak seemed to kick in again. Glaring at the hitman, Abby left the adults and headed upstairs, throwing a last comment over her shoulder. "Matt's going to know a hell of a lot more about this than you do, so just shut up and let him handle it if that's what he wants."

"She's loyal," Garrett observed after the teen had slipped into Rachel's room. "She's loyal to you guys anyway."

"Or maybe it's just that she doesn't like you," Matt countered, sitting next to Elektra at the table.

"Or maybe all of us need to get out of this fucked up little housing arrangement before there's any more bloodshed," Garrett mused. "Your better half knocked my tooth out last night," he told Matt. "Expect to hear from my dentist. Can you hear what they're saying up there?"

"Yes."

"Will you give me a play-by-play?"

"No," Matt replied.

"Eh. Could you hear what your better half and I were discussing earlier?"

"I could have, but I didn't," the lawyer answered, thinking of his conversation with Abby and that unexpected embrace.

"Great, then we have something to talk about until the girl talk ends."

Resting his forearms on the counter, Garrett repeated for Matt what he'd already told Elektra. That the surveillance video in which he killed Charles Mitchum was going to be proven fake, that Matt's escape from jail would be blamed on Ethan Burke, the psychotic blonde man who'd forced him out of jail and kept him prisoner.

"As for the kidnapping stuff and the details about resisting arrest, we all know that Murdock the ace attorney made sure those forged custody papers were very good forgeries."

"Of course," Matt said dryly.

"Figured. And Chastity's got access to lots of dirty laundry. She's going to help establish that every cop who went after you was working for Fisk. Or at least working for people who were working for Fisk."

Matt stayed quiet while Elektra regarded Garrett through narrowed eyes. "That'll take a lot of work."

"But it'll stop us from having to cohabitate anymore. By the way, stop using half the shampoo every time you shower. You're not living in a hair commercial."

"You're asking for a lot," Elektra persisted. "You're asking a woman I don't know for a lot of work."

"And you're pathologically incapable of accepting that I'll ask whoever I need to for whatever I need to get you out of my life and out of my grooming products?"

"Have you talked to _her _about all the evidence she's supposed to find on these people?"

"She hung up on me before we settled all the details, doesn't mean she won't do what I ask."

"Why? Why go to that much trouble?"

"I told you to trust me on this."

"I don't do that. Why are you so sure she'll jump through whatever hoops you give her?"

"Besides the fact that she flew to Paris to keep your friend Kermit safe?"

"Foggy," Matt corrected flatly.

Blinking, Garrett tilted his head sideways. "Not Froggy?" Pinching a spot between his eyes, Garrett shook his head. "Of course not Froggy," he said, mostly to himself. "Damn headache. Foggy, not Froggy. Too bad I can't use the Muppet joke anymore."

"Garrett," Elektra barked.

"Stop it," the hitman said irritably. "You want to play drill sergeant, do it when I'm not out of aspirin. Why can't you just accept the help and leave it there?"

"I don't do that."

"Explaining why so many people jump at the chance to help you out. It's the past, E, it's my past. Let it go."

Her eyes narrowed further. He was being evasive, which wasn't totally new for him, but wasn't his usual style either. In general, Garrett was as forthcoming with his information as he was with his flirting or his insults. Glancing at Matt, Elektra saw that he was frowning. At Garrett, not her. Meaning there was more to this than her admitted tendency towards paranoia.

Seeing that Matt had joined in scrutinizing him, Garrett rolled his eyes and looked heavenward. "You guys are both nuts," he muttered. "And I wondered what you saw in each other." Speaking in a more normal tone, Garrett looked at the couple sitting across from him. "It's guilt, that's all it is. Greatest emotion known to man when you want something done and you're too lazy to do it yourself."

"Guilt caused by what?" Matt asked.

Garrett shrugged. "You ever hear about people who trade their ticket on an airplane to someone else, then the plane goes down and they spend the rest of their lives hating themselves? It was like that, without the planes."

"Informative."

"Christ. Are all lawyers this nosy?"

"The good ones."

Rolling his eyes, the hitman elaborated in tight, terse sentences. "Seven, eight years ago when we were at S.H.I.E.L.D. together, there was this mission in South America. She was supposed to take point, it was supposed to be quick and relatively painless. Chastity got hurt, I had to go it on my own, and things went bad. I got my ass handed to me in a big bad way, spent a long time doing rehab and surgeries and other pleasant activities, and she was guilty as hell, because I almost died and I felt like dying for awhile after, and she thought it should've been her."

"You're telling me that she's doing all this because of something that happened that long ago?" Elektra asked skeptically.

Garrett shrugged again. "I almost died and it messed her up. Probably because she wants to get rid of me herself. It's not my fault she has a long memory and a zany conscience. I think she's finally getting sick of my blatant emotional manipulation though, so try not to piss off any more rich guys with too much time on their hands." Strolling from behind the counter, Garrett headed out of the room. "I have to take a leak," he announced.

"Thanks for sharing," Matt replied.

"Fuck off," Garrett said casually. "Price all good lawyers should have to pay for being so nosy."

"Other bathroom's closer," said Matt, knowing intuitively that he was going upstairs.

"Not if I want to find out what the hell's taking so long up there."

"Was he lying?" Elektra asked quietly, once they were alone.

"He wasn't lying," Matt said thoughtfully. "But he didn't want to tell us what he did."

"But he wasn't lying."

"No."

Sighing, Elektra ran a hand across her face. She hated this sometimes, not being able to trust anyone. She also knew there were things Garrett wasn't saying, but she wasn't willing to push him on it. Pushing for all of his secrets gave him the opportunity to push for hers. As long as he didn't do anything terribly stupid or withhold something that put Abby or Matt in danger, she really didn't care how much Garrett did or didn't say.

"He saved your life."

"Don't remind me," Elektra grumbled. Shaking her head to clear it, she looked at Matt curiously. "Do you trust him?"

"I trust you," he replied earnestly, "and that's most of the list. He hasn't lied to me directly and he wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Can't say I'm crazy about his methods though."

"Because he does what I used to do?" Elektra asked softly.

Matt grimaced. "Because I've reached a point where everyone I care about is mad at me. Because I have to go to people like Garrett to fix the mess I'm in, and I'm doing things that…"

"You don't like Garrett's plan."

"I like the plan fine, I don't like the fact that we have to use it in the first place," he replied. Tentatively, Matt grasped Elektra's hand where it rested on the table. "Abby was pretty close to giving up on me."

"Pretty close doesn't mean a thing," Elektra countered, squeezing his fingers. "You know that."

Matt hummed noncommittally.

"You're a good person," Elektra continued. "I know that even if you don't. So does Abby."

"Takes one to know one."

Elektra chose to ignore that comment. "I need you to do something for me. Last night, I said that you'd given up, when you took that gun. You never really answered me."

"I gave up," he replied. "Is that what you need?"

"I need you to stop doing it, or at least warn me when you're getting close."

"Okay."

"You sure?"

Leaning forward, Matt joined his lips with hers, brushing his tongue against her mouth in a tender kiss. He waited for her to pull away before responding. "I'm sure." One of his hands was still clasping hers, and he felt her grip tighten in reply. "Is it bad that I still don't get it?"

"Get what?"

"Why _you _haven't given up?"

"Very bad," Elektra said promptly, the smile in her voice negating the sentiment. Almost immediately, she became serious again. "Why didn't _you_ giveup when the roles were switched?"

"Sorry?"

"You know what I mean."

"I did give up, I stopped looking for you, I stopped thinking that you'd be back."

"But when I did, you didn't throw me out or have me arrested."

"You think I could've gotten away with trying to bring you in?" Matt joked.

"You could've tried," Elektra teased. "Wouldn't have worked, but you could've tried. The _point_, is that I was a mess and you could've given up on me and you didn't. Don't ask me to do anything different."

"What if I do?"

"Won't work," Elektra replied.

He kissed her again, resting his forehead against hers for a few seconds. "Do you still want to know what they did? As much of it as I remember, anyway?"

"Yeah," she whispered after the smallest of hesitations.

"If I asked, would you tell me what it was like for you?"

Elektra pulled away from him, sliding her hand free of his. It wasn't done angrily or defensively, but Matt heard her vitals speed up. "Is that what you're doing?"

"Abby told me about the social worker."

He'd said it gently, sympathetically. Elektra still flinched. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Wasn't it?"

"Everything was fine, I took care of it."

"Hey," the lawyer murmured, running his fingers down the side of her neck.

Sighing, Elektra captured the hand and squeezed it with both of hers. "They were going to take her, Matt. You were dead and they knew about it and I was so sure they were going to take her. She was getting in fights every other day; she barely spoke to me…"

"The way she tells it, you barely spoke to her."

He wasn't arguing or judging, his voice held as much understanding as she'd ever heard there. Elektra grimaced anyway. "You were dead. I'd just gotten you back and then you were gone again. And I was so, _so _sure that CPS was going to dig too deep and take Abby too."

"You wouldn't have let that happen."

"You're right," she acknowledged. "But it would've been one more thing to deal with. It worked out though, it doesn't matter."

"It does to me," Matt replied.

There was too much there. This happened sometimes when Matt told her how beautiful she was, or how much he loved her, needed her. The words would be laced with so much raw emotion that Elektra would have no way to respond properly. She couldn't respond now, so she had to be content with nuzzling her cheek against his hand for a scant few moments Anything more than that was dangerous, especially considering how emotionally fatigued she was.

Recognizing how charged the atmosphere had become, and registering that the others would be down soon, Matt let go of her hand and quirked his lips upward. "So, flower dresses and cookie recipes?"

Momentarily speechless, Elektra recovered admirably fast "When she has privileges that I can get rid of, remind me to get rid of them."

Jogging down the stairs with Garrett behind her, Abby reentered the kitchen and shot her mentor a sour look. "Don't take everything so seriously."

Snorting, Garrett followed her downstairs, stopping between the kitchen and living room. "You realize who you're talking to? Why is she glaring now?"

"I thought you wanted to talk to Rachel," Elektra snapped.

"In a minute when she quits stalling I will," Garrett replied a tad darkly. "You're not glaring because she broke something, are you? Because you already owe me for the missing tooth and the hole in my wall."

"Elektra wore a dress and Matt found out about it and now she's mad," Abby replied.

Quickly, Garrett let his eyes travel over Elektra's body. "She wore a dress and now she's wearing the kill look?"

"Floral print," the teen elaborated. "Orange and yellow. It was weird."

Eyes widening, Garrett looked at Elektra again, redressing her instead of undressing her. "You serious?" he asked disbelievingly. "Were you being coerced?"

"Don't you have other things to worry about?"

"Not at this exact moment. What the hell, Elektra? I don't even know you anymore."

"She was pretending to be a normal parental figure," said Abby. "Emergency situation."

"And there were flowered garments involved?" Garrett asked.

"And cookie recipes. It was very Stepford-like."

"Do we really need to discuss this?" Elektra wondered, killing Abby with her eyes.

"She has cookie recipes?" Garrett questioned, staring incredulously between the females.

"From the M&M bg."

"Huh. Disturbing."

"Yeah," Abby agreed. "So were the pictures."

As she was contemplating the merits of ADD medication for Garrett and her protégé, Elektra's head snapped upwards. "The what?"

"You," Garrett pointed at Abby, "have pictures of her," he pointed at Elektra, "playing happy homemaker?"

"I did," the girl answered, regret clear in her voice. "But they were in my phone, and you," she pointed at Garrett, "made me get rid of my phone."

"You should've told me," Garrett replied. "The phone was in my apartment, Chastity and the idiot squad took all my stuff, but Chast might be able to-"

He kept talking, but Elektra stopped listening. Everything that was and had been going on, and all these people could think about was a hideous dress she'd worn in a desperate situation. Even Matt looked intrigued. Was she the only one here who didn't have the attention span of a fly?

"Uncle Garrett?"

Everything stopped as Rachel shuffled nervously into the room. Sobering, Garrett smiled ruefully for his niece. "Hey babe. We okay?"

Rachel shrugged, looking everywhere but at her uncle. She seemed more afraid than she had while hiding under a desk from the men who killed her father.

"Kid, we're just going to figure some things out, okay? Nothing to worry about, all right?" The assurances rang false to everyone who heard them, but Rachel nodded anyway. "Okay," Garrett said in a deceptively normal voice. "Let's talk, me and you."

* * *

Of course, it wasn't just Rachel and Garrett. The two of them sat next to each other on the couch, Abby standing nearby and smiling encouragingly whenever Rachel glanced at her. Matt pulled the coffee table forward and sat on the floor in front of the kid. Elektra was in a different corner, distancing herself from all of them. Rachel looked quietly terrified, and the former mercenary didn't want to speculate on why.

For long moments, no one said anything. Rachel stared at her lap and Garrett stared at her, waiting for her gaze to move upward. Finally he said, "Remember yesterday when I said you could tell me anything?"

"Yeah," the girl mumbled, contemplating a small stain on the couch cushion. "But I'm not supposed to."

"Who says? Daddy?"

Rachel nodded in a way that was barely noticeable. "He said bad things would happen if I told anyone. Especially you."

"What kind of bad things?"

"I don't know."

Garrett looked at Matt, who shook his head minutely. Turning his attention back to Rachel, the hitman used a finger on her chin to force eye contact. "What kind of bad things?" he repeated.

"You would do something stupid, and people would get hurt. If I told anyone else, Bullseye would come after us."

Elektra stiffened. Abby sucked in an audible breath. Garrett glanced at Matt and saw that his left fist was clenching. "Is this about the man on Daddy's computer, did Bullseye know about him?"

Rachel said nothing.

"Come on, brat. Daddy might've told you not to say anything, but Daddy could be wrong sometimes." He resisted the urge to say that Jimmy tended to be wrong most of the time.

"Just pretend it's like that secret game we played the other day," Abby suggested. Her voice was calm, but the mention of her father's killer had made her entire body tense.

"It's not the same," Rachel argued stubbornly. "And that was a dumb game, all your secrets sucked."

Elektra almost laughed. Clearly, the girl needed to spend less time with Abby.

"Rachel," Matt said quietly. "I know the man on the files scares you, he scares me too."

The blonde scrutinized him for a long moment. "Did you have to listen to him all the time?"

"Yeah. And I know how hard it is _not _to listen to him. Rachel, what did Bullseye have to do with him?"

"He gave Daddy the CD's and stuff, everything with the bad man's voice."

"_Bullseye _gave him…?"

Nodding at her uncle, Rachel kept up her explanation. "He made sure I listened to the computer guy. Daddy didn't like him being around the house, but Bullseye said he had to make sure I was doing it."

Rachel went quiet again and Matt frowned, looking in Garrett's direction. The girl wanted to say something, but was holding back. "Rach," said Garrett, "what else?"

The kid stared at her lap again. "Bullseye didn't know about the other files and stuff."

"What are you talking about?"

"The ones Daddy made me listen to after Bullseye left. The bad guy's voice, it said things I didn't like, made me want to do stuff I didn't want to do. Then Daddy would put on the other tapes and the bad man's voice would go away a little."

Matt's eyes widened. He tried to question the girl further, but Garrett beat him to it. "That voice, the bad one, you can't possibly understand it," he stated, thinking of the coded Japanese that brought hell upon them last night.

For a second, Rachel seemed offended that her uncle would question her intelligence that way. Eventually though, her shoulders sagged in defeat. "I don't. I don't really understand Daddy's tapes either, the ones Bullseye wasn't supposed to know about."

"But the guy from last night, he still makes you want to do things you don't want to do."

"Yes."

"Rach, if you don't understand him, then how-"

"It doesn't matter," Matt cut in. "I didn't always understand him either."

Rachel perked up a bit, comforted to know that _someone_ understood, and that maybe she wouldn't need to explain this part of it. "The other files really help," she told Matt. "When all his talking was really bothering me, the other files made him go away mostly. Did you have other things to listen to after he talked to you?"

"No," Matt replied softly.

"You should have, then the bad man's voice probably wouldn't bother you as much."

"Rachel," Garrett murmured before anyone else could speak. "The bad guy's voice, what kind of things was he telling you?"

"Don't know," she mumbled. "I don't remember."

"How can you not-"

"She doesn't," Matt said firmly. "By the time Roshi's guys were done, I didn't remember my own name."

Elektra flinched a bit. None of the others noticed.

"Are you going to make me listen to them again?"

Garrett felt sick. The naked fear in her voice was too much, not to mention that all this talk of voices was making him think of schizophrenia. "No, Rachel. God no."

"You're supposed to. Twice a week."

"Why? Why was this going on?"

"I told you, Bullseye was going to hurt us if-"

"But why else?" Matt prodded, knowing that she was hiding something again. "Was there another reason?"

"I don't want to hear them anymore," Rachel declared, totally ignoring the question. "They give me headaches."

"I know," Matt acknowledged. "But did your father tell you why he was...why this was happening to you?"

Rachel shrank in on herself, contemplating Garrett's knee. "I told him I wanted him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He said we didn't have a choice."

"Why?" Garrett asked, trying to keep the anger from showing. "Why would he say that? You don't have to cover for him anymore, you're not betraying him, just tell me."

"You," the child replied after a protracted silence. "I told Daddy that I hated it, but he said it was your fault."

"What?"

"He didn't say it to me, he was talking to Bullseye and I was supposed to be sleeping. He said I had to listen to all that bad stuff because of you."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **Man, these things were so much easier to post when they were 4,000 words instead of 14,000. Oh well. I really am trying to get this wrapped up within a few (very long) chapters, but more on that later. For now, enjoy the update, and marvel as I start to address a plot thread that's been dangling for way too long. As usual, reviews are very much appreciated.

* * *

"I don't like it," Garrett announced, absently checking the gun pressed against his hip.

A sideways glance was all he got in return. Standing on the front porch, Elektra watched Matt and Rachel and tried not to grimace. The two of them sat cross-egged, facing each other on the pier, afternoon sun bouncing off the lake and bathing them in its rays. Since Rachel confirmed for them that she'd undergone at least some of the same brainwashing techniques he had, the lawyer had suddenly become much closer with Garrett's niece.

"I really don't like it," Garrett announced.

"What?" Elektra snapped, already knowing the answer.

"Them," the hitman replied, indicating the figures in the distance. "I don't like it."

"Why, because she talks to Matt instead of you?"

"Fuck yes," was the prompt response. "I'm her uncle."

"Who she hasn't seen in four years."

"Shut up. She still knows m better than him; she should be talking to me about…whatever."

"She does know you better. But Matt knows what she's been through better than anyone else."

"You think he can do it? Help her, like the old man helped him?"

"I think he's trying, and I don't think that should bother you."

"What bothers me, is that none of this makes sense. Jimmy exposes her to whatever the hell was in those files, tries to turn her psycho like Matty over there –"

Elektra cut him off with a very, very cold stare.

"No offense," Garrett added, holding his hands up. "You know what I meant."

"I know what you meant," Elektra confirmed. "Drop it."

"Dropped. But why the hell would Jimmy put her through those tapes, then do something to try and erase whatever the hell those Hand bastards were putting in her head?"

"I don't know," Elektra replied in a low, dangerous voice. Matt and the kid made her uneasy for reasons she had no desire to explore. She didn't like being uneasy, and she didn't like Garrett being here right now. "Why would your brother blame any of that on you?"

Eyes sparkling, Garrett stuffed both hands in his pockets to still the twitching that had plagued them for the last twenty minutes. "My brother blamed me for everything it was possible to blame somebody for. Did I say for one minute that I understood what went on in his head?"

"But you're asking me to figure it out?" Elektra wondered.

"I'm venting," he grumbled. "In a way that doesn't involve sharp objects and soft bodies. You should try it sometime. And tell Matt to quit monopolizing my niece."

"You're jealous."

"Fuck yes," was the easy reply. "I should be the one making things better for her."

"Then go out there," Elektra suggested, eager for him to leave.

"No," he replied instantly. Then, in a much softer tone. "I don't know how."

"Then go in _there_," Elektra urged, jerking her chin towards the front door.

Ignoring the command, Garrett studied the brunette intently. "I know why _I _don't like it," he said, gesturing towards Matt and Rachel, "What's your excuse?"

Elektra watched Matt, cursing the distance that stopped her from reading his expression. He seemed completely absorbed by the child in front of him, but that meant nothing. It was one of the few things she really hated about him, Elektra could never tell if Matt was listening to her conversations, inadvertedly or otherwise. It wasn't that she thought he would spy on her, but he himself had told her how hard it could be _not _spy on someone. The perks of superhuman hearing.

Realizing Garrett was still staring her down waiting for an answer, Elektra simply glared in his direction. She didn't want the hassle of a lie, and she certainly didn't want Matt overhearing the truth. That any attachment to Rachel was more than they could afford, that she, Elektra couldn't take any more responsibility, couldn't take the guilt if something happened to the kid. That the kid was Garrett's responsibility now and that they'd already gotten too close to Rachel, too invested in the mess that was her life.

"How do you know I don't like it?" Elektra questioned, ignoring her inner turmoil and wishing she could do the same to Garrett. That had been easier when she could just hang up the phone or get out of whichever hotel room they were sharing.

"Because I know you," the hitman replied, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Elektra thought she saw Matt look in her direction before shifting his attention back to the kid, but couldn't discount the idea that her mind was betraying her. "You don't know me," she hissed, "if you did, you wouldn't need to ask me that."

There was no quick retort this time. Instead, Garrett tilted his head in acknowledgement, his expression turning thoughtful. "Granted," he said, eyes traveling from the brunette to Rachel and Matt by the lake, then back again. "You're giving them a weird look," he pointed out, indicating the girl and the blind man.

Elektra said nothing. She knew he was right, but could do nothing about it. Transfixed, she watched Rachel laugh at something Matt said, noting how long it'd been since she'd seen the kid truly smile at anything.

Garrett observed Elektra observing the others, studying her typically guarded facial expressions. She wasn't totally blank, but he couldn't read her either. Was that introspection? Sadness? Some combination of emotions he couldn't possibly name? She'd always been a puzzle, a closed book, so it shouldn't bother him that he couldn't get inside her head now. But it did, it bothered him because he'd never seen E's face quite like this. Garrett swore he remembered an almost-similar expression from not long ago, but couldn't recall where he'd seen it.

"You get anything from your brother's things?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of Rachel and Matt.

"I'm not doing that here," he replied instantly. "Not after what happened last time." Garrett had , been itching to get back to searching Jimmy's files ever since Rachel told them about the second voice, the one that seemed to counteract whatever the Hand was trying to do. At the same time, he absolutely refused to take any chances. He wasn't about to stumble across another Pandora's Box that would send Rachel into shock and send Matt over the edge.

Returning her gaze to him, Elektra let one eyebrow creep upward. "What've you been doing the last two hours then?"

Lying in his locked, darkened bedroom, smothering himself with a pillow and waiting for his body to stop hating him. Since this morning, Garrett had nursed a migraine from hell and nausea to go with it. In addition, every muscle in his body had been protesting his very existence. Fuck if he wasn't getting worse. Not that E knew that. "_Outer Limits_ marathon," he replied. "Matty stole my niece, Abby stole my punching bag, and you were busy staring at nothing."

Shaking her head, Elektra chose to let it go. He was probably lying, but remembering some of the things she'd walked in on seven years earlier, Elektra decided that she didn't actually care to know _what _he'd been doing in his room. "You never showed me that file on Bullseye," she announced.

Cursing inwardly, Garrett ran a hand through close-cropped hair. Before he'd met up with Chastity, Elektra requested/demanded that he access S.H.I.E.L.D.'s information on Bullseye. He'd made an excuse then, hoping she'd forget about it before he had to make another. With all the craziness of the last forty-eight hours, Garrett was sure she _had _forgotten it. Until now. "Told you, nothing there for you to care about."

"I know what you told me, what makes you think I care?"

"Shouldn't you be more worried about getting hold of whatever Rach was listening to that kept her from losing it when the Hand tried to influence her? Maybe those files will keep Matt from going postal again."

"Maybe you should keep your mouth shut about Matt," the brunette replied in a disturbingly quiet voice. Scowling, Elektra forced her tone to become slightly less hostile. "Anyway, how do you think I'm going to do that if you won't touch the computer?"

"You want a repeat of what happened the other night? I don't, and I'm not risking it."

Elektra let her shoulders drop slightly, the closest she would come to admitting that he was right. Something in Jimmy Pierce's computer had kept his daughter from turning into Matt, even after months of brainwashing by the Hand. If they could find what that something was, they might be able to stop Matt being a danger to himself and others every time he heard the voice of his tormentor. However, as Garrett pointed out, it wouldn't be worth it if Rachel went catatonic and Matt lost control again. Still, Bullseye was a completely separate issue, one she'd pushed aside and one Garrett was trying to avoid.

"Do me a favor: go upstairs, get the laptop, and see if you can get Internet."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Elektra asked.

"Nothing, except that I need Internet to get into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database, and the Wi-Fi out here is crap."

"You didn't have a problem before."

"Says who? I was looking at Jimmy's stuff, and most of Jimmy's stuff didn't require an Internet connection. We're in the middle of nature, E, you know how hard it is to get reliable Web access?" he questioned, gesturing towards the surrounding trees

Elektra shut her eyes tightly. Truthfully, she doubted the government would have anything useful on the assassin. If there was something worth knowing, Garrett would've told her at the same time he revealed that Bullseye was still alive. Despite her assertions to Abby that knowing your enemy was half the battle, Elektra couldn't pretend to care about Bullseye's real name or his hometown or his favorite color. She wanted him dead and that was that, to hell with planning or gathering information. Not the smartest approach, she knew, but she'd never been entirely rational where her father's killer was concerned.

Truthfully, Elektra just needed something to do. Sitting here was becoming difficult, not that it hadn't been already. She'd tried calming her rampant thoughts with Kimagure, but Kimagure always led to things Elektra didn't want to see. She couldn't take the hiding, waiting for some contact she didn't know to come through, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Bullseye's file wouldn't help much, but reading it could qualify as semi-proactive. Something to keep her busy, if only for a few minutes, except she couldn't access it herself, and Garrett wasn't being overly-helpful.

"Look," said the hitman, "we're in desperate need of supplies. I'm going to head into town."

"Rachel?"

"Seems okay to me," Garrett replied, wishing he could hear what Murdock was saying to his niece.

"What if I'm not okay?" Elektra questioned. She'd done more babysitting in a week than she had in her entire life, and wasn't exactly keen on doing more. True, Matt and Abby had done most of the work, but that in itself was a problem.

"When are you ever okay?" Garrett wondered, irritation mounting. "We need food, the Twinkies are gone." Elektra didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, so Garrett tagged on another fact. "The coffee's gone."

Green eyes narrowed as slender shoulders went rigid. "Fine," Elektra replied grudgingly.

"Fine the coffee's gone or fine I can get more?"

"What was it you said about knowing me?"

Garrett pulled a face. "Don't make jokes; you know how much that disturbs me. There's a café two blocks from the grocery store, good clam chowder."

"I'm not hungry."

"If you were, you think I'd pay to fix it? Café has Wi-Fi, Jimmy files had some links that I can't access from here."

"Is it smart to do that in public?"

"Place will be dead, the clam soup is good, but everything else is shit."

"The man who gorges on Twinkies is becoming a food critic?"

"Fuck off," Garrett replied amiably. He needed aspirin and booze and a syringe, and he needed them more than he needed to offer witty comebacks. Only two days since he'd shot up at the bowling alley and he already felt like dying again.

"Bullseye?"

"It's a café, not an office. You want me to print out secret government documents with the restaurant's grease trap?"

"I want to know why you're being so evasive about this."

"When am I _not _evasive to you? God himself could offer the secrets of the universe, and you'd accuse him of being evasive." When she continued to glower at him, Garrett rolled his eyes in a long suffering sigh. "I'll try hacking the database if you're really that desperate for reading material, but I told you already that they'll be working a hell of a lot harder to keep me out."

The brunette remained silent, a glint of suspicion still visible in her eyes.

Seeing this, Garrett rolled his eyes a second time. "You remind me of Jimmy when we were kids. So goddamn paranoid, never trusted anyone. It's not a way to live."

"Should I be trusting you then?"

"Well, I have the wallet, I have the car keys, and I'm the one in charge of coffee retrieval, so you might want to give it a shot." It took a moment, but soon enough, Elektra returned the half-smirk Garrett directed her way.

They stood in almost-companionable silence, both their gazes returning to the pair on the beach. Sneaking glances every now and then, Garrett noted that unreadable look and it's return to Elektra's face. Focusing back on Rachel, he ignored the pounding in his head and began thinking out loud. "He had the files from the Hand, but he also had something to stop those files from working, which means that he couldn't have worked for them willingly. But if he was being forced into something, why didn't he contact me?"

"Maybe he couldn't."

"He could have. He _should _have, as soon as he realized who Rachel was."

"Maybe he didn't want to put you in danger."

"Yeah," Garrett agreed rather darkly. "My brother the protector. I told him to get rid of Rachel, when he told me Lena was pregnant," Garrett blurted, a trickle of sweat breaking on his forehead. He wasn't sure why he was saying this, but he did know why he'd pushed for the abortion. Jimmy wasn't a monster, but he was stupid, with stupid ideas about how kids should be protected.

"I know," said Elektra, still watching the others. "You told me already."

"Yeah?" Garrett replied, cursing his slow thought processes. Then it came to him. The other night, before Murdock tried offing himself, Garrett had been drunk and admitted the shameful truth about Rachel. Watching Elektra, the hitman realized something else, too. The weird, unreadable look had been present that night, at the same time he'd mentioned the desire to kill his unborn niece. There had to be implications there, but Garrett chose to ignore them. "Don't let Murdock out of your sight, not when he's with Rachel."

"He's fine now, I told you that."

"And I trust you, but you don't believe in that concept, so please make sure everyone and everything is in one piece when I get back."

* * *

The headache that had plagued him on and off for the last week was back with a vengeance. In the time it took Garrett to leave the porch and get upstairs, the pain had gone from irritating to agonizing. He'd used the last of his drug supply back at the bowling alley, and he really, really hated himself for that. Almost as much as he hated the excessively loud punk rock emanating from the end of the hall.

Massaging his temple, Garrett crossed to the very end of the hallway, opening the last door on the right. Few of the women he'd brought up here had understood the logic of having a workout room in a vacation home, but it'd never truly been an issue. Most of his time with guests was spent in the bedroom anyway. The treadmill, weight machines, and punching bag had all sat mostly idle, ever since he'd purchased the house. For the last two days though, Garrett's equipment had gotten more than its fair share of use.

Leaning against the doorframe, Garrett watched in fascination as Abby tried to kill his punching bag, an unknown screamer band serving as background music. The scene was hardly new, and usually Garrett would've backtracked to his room without a second thought. Usually.

"Yo Trinity!" he yelled, cursing the surge of pain it caused. "Want to turn it to a low roar before the neighbors alert the cops?"

Rolling her eyes, Abby slammed the bag again, pivoted to face him, and pinned Garrett with a look she'd consciously or unconsciously taken from Elektra. "It's not that loud, and we don't have neighbors."

"It is that loud, and if we did, they'd definitely call the doughnut brigade."

Rolling her eyes, Abby moved with deliberate slowness to the boom box in the corner. Still glaring, she took an unnecessary few seconds to get her finger to the power button. "If the nonexistent neighbors were going to call the cops, they'd have done it when the guns were going off."

"One gun," the hitman corrected, stepping casually into the room. "One gun, one shot. And thank God the nonexistent neighbors don't exist, because I hate the noise those damn sirens make. Almost as much as I hate the noise coming out of those speakers."

Shrugging, the teen went back to the punching bag, reclaiming the weapons she'd been pummeling it with. "Trinity?" she questioned, one eyebrow raised.

Mimicking her gesture, Garrett let his shoulders rise and fall as he examined the items she was holding. Two dark brown clubs, one in each hand. Like escrima but not, modified somehow. "It was a good movie. Besides, don't all you girls swoon over that Keanu guy?"

"Not really," Abby replied, resuming her assault on the bag. "Besides, things went downhill after the first one, and Trinity died before the end of the third."

The sticks weren't his, and he knew they weren't Elektra's. As they smacked against the leather again and again, Garrett wondered if Murdock knew his stuff was being borrowed. "True, but she had sunglasses and a motorcycle."

"Doesn't matter, she died, and her death was totally anticlimactic."

Silently conceding that Abby did have a point, Garrett moved further into the room, observing the teen's fighting style. Truthfully, there wasn't much style involved. It was clear that Abby had never touched the clubs before. All force, no finesse. Idly, he recalled telling Elektra that Bullseye was still breathing, recalled E storming around like a lunatic, desperate for something to punish. He also remembered Abby, how calm she'd been while she asked him about the guns, about defending herself. Whether it was delayed reaction or just the stress of the week, that calm seemed to have disappeared.

"Did you actually want something?"

"Going into town for awhile, wanted to see if I needed to get a new bag," he replied, positioning himself behind the item in question.

"You don't," was the terse reply.

"Guess not. You need anything else?"

Pausing, Abby wiped her forehead with the back of her arm, getting rid of the perspiration there. "Coffee?"

"On the list."

"What kind?"

"Same kind we've had all week."

Abby considered that, looking at him hopefully. "There's a Starbucks by the grocery store."

"I don't do Starbucks."

"So? I do."

"You shouldn't. Damn corporations are taking over the world."

"So?"

"So it's an evil corporation that charges five bucks for a cup of coffee."

"You hate corporations, but you didn't mind going to Wal-Mart when Elektra and I first met up with you."

"That was different. You're forgetting about the always low prices. They don't charge five bucks for a cup of coffee."

"Whatever. Can you pick me up a Grande caramel Frappuccino light? Blended."

"Am I supposed to understand what you just said?"

"I'll write it down for you."

"Wouldn't that require you to lay off the angry teenage brooding long enough to get a pen and paper?"

"I'm not angry," the teen argued, resuming her attack on the punching bag. "And I'm not brooding."

"Of course not. That's why you've been in here most of the day. Yesterday too, actually. Ever since Rachel talked about what happened."

Abby performed a kick that completely missed the bag and just barely missed Garrett's head.

The hitman swore inwardly. The quick sidestep he'd had to perform brought the migraine he was trying to ignore back to the front of his mind. "Well, that was uncalled for. No coffee for you."

"You weren't going to get it anyway."

"I might have if you didn't attempt to decapitate me. I think you need to get away from Elektra for awhile. She likes hitting when she's mad."

"It was a kick, and I'm not mad."

"Uh huh."

"Even if I was, why do you care?"

"I don't. You've been in here so long not being mad that Rachel thinks you're mad at her. That's what I care about."

For a second time, Abby stopped what she was doing. "She thinks I'm mad at her?"

"Possibly, I have no idea. She's been outside with Matt most of the day. Are you mad about the fact that she was being mind-fucked, or are you mad about who was doing it?"

"Both," Abby grumbled, dropping the sticks and grabbing a nearby towel. "And I don't get how you aren't."

"I shot six clips into the trees last night," said Garrett. "Would've been more, but I don't like wasting the ammo. Don't tell me it doesn't kill me to think about those fuckers in the Hand messing with her head. Turning her into Psycho Mary."

"Typhoid," Abby corrected, wiping her face and hands.

"Same fucking difference," the hitman growled.

"Sorry. You don't show it as much."

"I'm repressed."

A brief silence followed before Abby spoke again. "She's a kid."

"So are you."

"And she's already going through all this crap."

"I know, and so did you."

"That's not the point."

"Bullseye?"

The name brought hatred into Abby's eyes. "He's with them again. He gave her those files."

"I know," Garrett replied darkly.

"Everything bad that comes along, he's involved somehow."

His head felt like it was going to explode. He needed Tylenol which they didn't have, and he needed something a lot stronger, too. "I don't know, I don't think he had anything to do with the creation of _Dancing with the Stars_, and that thing's not bad, it's downright evil."

"Is there anything that isn't a joke to you?"

Sighing, Garrett rubbed his forehead, noticing a few drops of sweat there. God he wished he still had that syringe Chastity took from his apartment. "Don't waste your energy."

"Don't try telling me not to hate him, because I'm there already."

"Don't waste your energy," Garrett repeated wearily. "He'll get his, one way or the other."

"He always does," Abby nodded, "and he always comes back."

"Not always. Everyone runs out of chances. He'll be gone soon enough."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know," Garrett snapped. "Everyone runs out of chances, and he's not invincible." _Especially not now_, Garrett added silently.

Taken aback by the sudden display of anger, Abby noted for the first time the pain etched in the hitman's features. He was pale, had been that way at different times throughout the week. On closer inspection, Abby realized that his hands were twitching. "You don't look good, Garrett."

"Now you sound like my mother," he replied, turning his back on her and moving towards the door before the girl could say anything else. He made it to his room just as his vision started to swim and his nose began to bleed.

* * *

It was a risk, hiring Bullseye again. The man was an arrogant sociopath who'd put Maya in the hospital, necessitating Fisk's third trip there in less than three days. The Irishman was loose cannon, but he had been right about Maya.

Despite all of Wilson's hopes for his old friend's daughter, the woman had proven herself unworthy of those expectations. Hence the reason he'd kept her drugged to the gills for most of her hospital stay. He needed time to decide her fate. Rationally, Wilson knew that he should kill her, should've killed her days ago. However, he'd promised her father that he'd take care of her, and taking care of her wouldn't normally involve having her shot and dumped in the Hudson. Fisk refused to acknowledge the other reason behind his indecisiveness, refused to admit any sort of emotional attachment.

Waiting for the elevator to deposit him on Maya's floor, Wilson contemplated his options. Perhaps killing her wasn't really necessary. It would certainly be a waste, considering all the time and money put into training the woman. She couldn't serve as Bullseye's replacement, but that didn't mean she'd be useless. She'd been under his control in one sense or another since the age of five, and Wilson was confident in his ability to keep her that way. As long as she stayed under control, as long as certain facts remained unknown to her, Maya might still serve as a valuable resource.

Leaving the elevator, Fisk moved purposefully down the hospital corridors, making his way to the one outside Maya's room. There was a large cluster of doctors and nurses gathered near her doorway, all of them speaking in low, agitated tones. In the middle of this stood Malcolm Cahill, the man Fisk had charged with guarding Maya. Malcolm didn't look happy, especially when he noticed his boss at the end of the hall. The medical staff soon followed Malcolm's gaze, their chatter suddenly quieting as their eyes dropped to the floor. Fisk had paid all of them very handsomely to follow his instructions regarding Maya, to keep their mouths shut, and to keep her safe. That money wouldn't be in their bank accounts much longer and they all knew it.

As the only person besides Fisk to truly appreciate how much trouble they were in, Malcolm was understandably reluctant to approach his boss. However, the burly bodyguard squared his shoulders, put on his game face, and approached the crimelord. "Mr. Fisk sir, I didn't know you were visiting this morning."

"Should I have cleared my itinerary with you, Malcolm? What's going on here?"

The shorter man succeeded for the most part in his attempt not to fidget. "Before I tell you that sir, I want you to know that the situation is being taken care of. I've got a team on the way, and the hospital employees-"

"What's going on?"

Even faced with that cold stare and deadly deep voice, Malcolm was able to keep some measure of composure, though he did swallow audibly. "Again, I'd like to reiterate that the situation is under control."

"What situation would that be?"

"Sir I…I'm not sure exactly how this happened, I was watching the door the whole time but…"

"Yes?"

"A nurse came by for afternoon rounds and the room was empty. Miss Lopez is missing, sir."

* * *

Knowing that he'd already proved his point with the Lopez woman didn't do much to improve Bullseye's mood. He didn't like being replaced, and he really didn't like being replaced by some second-stringer joke. However, he was intrigued by _why _he'd been replaced by that particular woman, mildly curious about Fisk's history with her.

Mentally shaking himself, the assassin revved his stolen motorcycle and focused on his route across the city. If this were any other town, Bullseye might've been concerned about speeding along in broad daylight with an alligator coat and a branded forehead. Luckily, residents of the Big Apple tended not to look too hard or ask too many questions. They barely batted an eye when the spider-freak sprayed his web goop every which way.

It'd taken some convincing, but Fisk had eventually caved, as Bullseye knew he would. The big boss was short-handed, desperate, just as Bullseye's former employers had been. The Irishman smirked a bit as he swerved onto a narrow side street. The Hand. Short-handed. That was kind of funny. The thought of those lying bastards still made his blood boil, but their short-handedness was still amusing. As was Fisk's reaction when he'd learned exactly what Bullseye had been doing for them.

"_Let me get this straight," said the dark-skinned man. "The Hand hired you again. Knowing that you failed them last time."_

_In the chair opposite Fisk's desk, Bullseye waved dismissively, examining a box of cigars next to the phone. "Change in policy. Like I said, most of their guys died in some huge fight, and they won't get much done by killing whoever's left. How much do these babies run you?"_

"_More than your usual retainer fee. Put them down."_

"_I don't remember you being such a gracious host," Bullseye replied, abandoning the box but keeping one cigar clasped between his fingers. "Got a lighter I can use?"_

"_You're telling me __Roshi brought you back into his organization to _babysit_?"_

"_Technically I'm nowhere near being part of his organization, which is fine by me, considering how trashed it is at the moment. I was just doing a bit of freelance work. Didn't know you and the sushi-loving scumbag were on a first name basis."_

"_I've had dealings with him before," Fisk said cryptically. "Tell me again what you were supposed to do."_

_Sighing dramatically, Bullseye tossed the unlit cigar into a nearby trashcan, ignoring the other man's reproachful glare. "Roshi's guys found the girl way before you did. Far as I can tell, they could've killed Pierce and taken his daughter, but apparently they haven't had much luck with that in the past. Kid won't want to help them if she finds out they offed her old man."_

_Humming noncommittally, Fisk clasped his palms together, scrutinizing the assassin closely. "They've got techniques to keep their people under control."_

"_Right, you've had dealings with them before," Bullseye replied, an unpleasant glint in his eyes. At Fisk's impatient hand gesture, he chose to let it drop and continue with the main topic. "They were going for a new approach this time. Instead of traumatizing the kid for life and brainwashing the hell out of her, they wanted to skip the trauma, go slower when it came to turning her to their side. All I had to do was keep tabs on the kid and her dad and make sure she listened to whatever 'education materials' Roshi gave out."_

"_And you still managed to let Pierce escape with the girl."_

_Bullseye scowled in irritation. "I didn't know he was planning an escape attempt."_

"_I wouldn't think so."_

"_He didn't seem stupid enough to think that he could run from everyone who wanted that kid. I told him he was stuck now that the Hand knew where he was, I thought he believed me."_

"_You thought he'd sit by and let you torture his daughter."_

"_You already know why he went along with it."_

_Fisk nodded slowly. "He thought Roshi and the Hand could solve the problem with his brother."_

"_Hoped, more like."_

_The bald man nodded again. "Hoped. Is that what you were doing, too?"_

_The assassin glared silently._

"_You're sick, we both know that. Roshi promised you a cure."_

"_Give the man a prize. Suppose me and Jimmy figured out about the same time that Roshi wouldn't follow through on anything he said."_

"_So you came to me."_

"_So I did."_

"_You didn't come to me healthy."_

"_I can still function. Met a doctor just the other day who gave me enough to hold me over."_

"_Whatever you took from him-"_

"_It's the same stuff Pierce's brother uses, the doctor was selling it to him on the side."_

"_So it keeps you functioning. Temporarily."_

"_Temporarily is all I need. I find Rachel for you; you set up a team of doctors to keep me from dying."_

"_I've told you before; I've already got people working on that."_

"_Like the people that found her the first time? The ones Garrett and the blind man and his bitch took out?"_

"_Elektra also took you out. You should be dead. Isn't that the reason you're dying now? All those drugs S.H.I.E.L.D. pumped you with, everything they did to keep you alive, it's all starting to fail."_

"_It's not my fault those government pricks weren't thorough enough."_

"_Maybe if you'd stayed long enough to let them finish, you wouldn't have this problem."_

"_I didn't like the accommodations, didn't like being experimented on. Anyway, that's hardly the point. I get you the kid, you keep me from dying again. Sounds fair to me."_

"_And what do you have that fifty of my other employees don't?"_

_Bullseye spread his arms wide, a cocky grin on his face. "I'm me. Besides, I don't see any of your fifty employees busting in to tell you that they found Murdock and the kid."_

_Fisk remained quiet._

"_You need more incentive? Jimmy Pierce was watching his brother pretty closely, and I was watching Jimmy pretty closely."_

"_What are you saying?"_

"_I'm saying that I know things about Garrett Pierce that you and your fifty other employees don't. Not that you guys couldn't find them out eventually, but I'm thinking you want this done quick as possible."_

_Silence prevailed, but the large man did incline his head just slightly._

"_You can wait for your research guys and hope Pierce doesn't move the kid, that Murdock doesn't bullshit his way out of this, or you can let me handle it. I knew who Pierce's drug dealer was, I know the people he was seeing before he bolted. I'll find him, and the girl, and the rest of our old buddies."_

"_Murdock and Elektra beat you before, what makes you think that won't happen again?"_

_Smirking, the assassin replied, "Elektra's not at the top of her game, not after that bullet back in Jersey. Murdock hasn't played dress-up in months, and I hear he's not exactly sane anymore."_

"_Which probably makes him even more dangerous, especially to you."_

"_You let me deal with Murdock and his pretty little girlfriend, doesn't look like anyone else around here's doing it. What do you have to lose?"_

"_Pierce won't give up his niece without a fight."_

"_Pierce won't have much fight in him, not anymore."_

He'd embellished about just how much knowledge he had on Garrett Pierce, but Bullseye was still confident in his ability to get the job done. He knew enough, he knew about the string of women Pierce had been seen with over the last few months.

Contemplating Pierce's ability to screw an inordinate amount of women in a very short time, Bullseye was annoyed to find that his hands were shaking. The fucking headache was back as well. Tightening his hold on the motorcycle, the assassin cursed inwardly. The damn drugs shouldn't be wearing off already. He couldn't be dizzy and bleeding and waiting for his head to explode when he retrieved the kid.

Accelerating, Bullseye grit his teeth and ignored the urge to throw up. Once this was done, Fisk would be more than happy to get him a cure, or at least a treatment that wasn't a total joke. Roshi might've been a liar, but Fisk was different. The crimelord was difficult to please, but he always made good on his promises. Willing his fingers still, willing himself not to pass out from the sudden onslaught of pain, Bullseye mused on what he'd do to Wilson Fisk if the man didn't make good on this particular agreement.

* * *

"Did you need something?"

The teenager froze, two of Matt's billy clubs still in her hands. She'd been about to stuff them back in the duffel under the bed when the blind man snuck up on her. Setting the items down, Abby stood and tried to sound innocent Fortunately, Matt seemed more amused than angry. "Hi."

"Hi," Matt mimicked, leaning against the doorframe. "Let me guess, you lost an earring?"

"Nope, that was Garrett. Told him I'd look for it though."

Garrett's room was next to this one, and his voice could be heard through the next wall. "Now you don't get your Frappa-whatever, or your scone."

Abby was too busy yelling out a response to notice Matt's frown. "I thought you were leaving."

"Soon. You want me to tell you what I hear in there when you and Rachel are watching that sponge cartoon? I will, you know."

Clearing his throat loudly, Matt cut off any reply Abby may've had. "You could've asked," he said, gesturing towards the weapons on the floor.

"If I ask, I usually get yelled at."

The blind man chuckled at that, silently acknowledging how possessive Elektra was about her things. "Feeling better?".

"Should I be?" the teen wondered. "Doesn't seem to be happening." Pausing, Abby gazed at him with hopeful eyes. "Are you still making it up to us for screwing up the other night?"

Matt's frown returned. "Abby-"

"What? You're not doing anything else. You and Elektra are always so worried about me, so teach me to defend myself."

"You can do that already."

"Not with these," the girl argued, glancing down at the weapons. Turning her attention back to Matt, she noticed that the blind man seemed distracted, but was too distracted herself to worry about the cause.

Sighing, Matt ran a hand over thick, spiky hair. "I don't want you burning yourself out for no reason."

"Bullseye and the Hand and the cops aren't reason enough? Every time something happens, I end up shoved on the sidelines because I'm not good enough."

"That's not true, and you're not going to be 'good enough' after one session with a weapon you've never used before."

"And I'm not going to get that way by sitting downstairs with the TV, either."

"Why were you putting the clubs back if you're still so eager to beat on something?"

"I wanted them back here before you noticed. Mission failed. Come on," Abby pleaded. "Show me how to use these things or I'll tell Elektra about the time you missed the flagpole and landed in the garbage truck."

Matt blinked in confusion. "How…?"

"You told Foggy, Foggy told me. He must suck at that lawyer/client confidentiality thing. So train me or I'll tell Elektra all about the garbage truck incident."

"You can tell _me_ about the garbage truck incident," Garrett offered as he strolled down the hallway. "Don't be afraid to get into detail."

Rolling his eyes, Matt waved an arm in Abby's direction. "Five minutes, bring the clubs."

"What about one of the cool ones, with the spear and the grapple and the-"

"No."

"Didn't think so," Abby muttered. She'd certainly _wanted _to take one of Matt's advanced weapons, the ones reserved for Daredevil, but she'd held back. He might not be as possessive as Elektra about his stuff, but he'd gone psycho again the other night, and Abby wasn't prepared to face Evil Matt's wrath.

* * *

The stolen bike roared across the highway at just over the speed limit, weaving past any vehicles in its way. The Irishman riding it was tired but determined. There'd been a lot of effort involved, but he had a location now and was ready to do his job. It was foolish of them to stay in Connecticut, so close to the city, but he couldn't really blame them. They were fugitives with little money and scarce resources. A fact that made his job that much easier. Two hours of drive time would get him exactly where he needed to be.

* * *

"Relax your hands more," Matt advised, dodging the billy club aimed at his head.

Abby did, frowning as she loosened her grip. "Doesn't feel right."

"Get used to it," said the blind man, using his own club to block a blow to the stomach. "Or get used to losing circulation in your fingers."

Grunting in irritation, the teen went for Matt's shoulder blades. "This looks easier in the Bruce Lee movies."

"_Everything _looks easier in the Bruce Lee movies," Matt countered, gracefully backing out of her attack range.

"You know that?" Abby asked curiously, circling him in the too-small training room.

"Caught a few of them before the accident. Relax your hands."

"I am," said Abby, swinging her weapon in frustration.

"Do it better," the blind man replied, easily avoiding the sloppy attack. Softening his voice, Matt patiently waited for her next move. "You want to tell me what this is about?"

Surprised, Abby stopped just a moment in her slow circuit of the gym area. "Did that already."

"Really?" Matt prodded, bringing his club up in time to prevent a broken nose.

"Quit baiting me," Abby muttered. "You sound like Garrett."

"Ouch," Matt replied, resting a hand over his heart.

Hoping to take advantage of the opening, the girl was thoroughly irritated when he blocked her again. "I just hate this, that's all."

"This."

"This whole thing," she elaborated as they continued to spar. "There's all the usual people that deserve to fall off a cliff, and it's not just me they're screwing with anymore, it's Rachel too. Did she tell you anything else about…anything?"

Shaking his head, Matt smacked his weapon against Abby's pleased to note that she was finally learning to block instead of just swinging. "We talked about what happens when someone else is trying to control you, how to control yourself when it happens. I'm trying my best to help her."

Nodding, Abby grimaced when Matt landed a light hit to her ribs. It didn't hurt, but it didn't do much for her ego. "If I ask you something will you tell me the truth? No sugarcoating or saying nice things to make me feel better?"

Matt's eyebrows hitched upwards. "Is there anything I could say that _would _make you feel better?"

"Good point," Abby said, stepping around him to avoid being backed into a corner. "You know how Stick's guy Ethan was giving me all those dirty looks while he was here?"

"According to Elektra, he was giving _everyone _dirty looks."

"Yeah, but I remember now that he started to say some stuff about me and you wouldn't let him."

"Bend your elbows more," Matt instructed, bringing his weapon down to cover his kneecap.

"Should I have done more?"

"What are you talking about?"

"As the Treasure." Shaking her head, Abby halted the match, turning her back on him as she answered her own question. "I should've done more. I spent years hiding with Dad, chasing this normal life I never could've had, then I let Elektra trick me into thinking everything was cool, just because Kirigi was gone."

Despite knowing how angry she'd been over the past week, Matt was surprised by the sheer amount of bitterness rolling off the teen. Dropping the club to the ground, he took a cautious step forward. "You were a kid, what were you supposed to do?"

"Same thing all the girls before me did," Abby snapped. "Picked a side and done something instead of wasting my time pretending there wasn't a war going on."

"Are you saying you _wanted _to fight, become another pawn in-"

"It's not about what I wanted," was the tense reply. "You didn't want your dad to die, Elektra didn't want Kirigi to kill her mom, Rachel didn't want her stupid father to die…" Abby trailed off, knuckles clenching painfully against the club she still held.

"Rachel," Matt said, comprehension slowly washing over him.

"Rachel," Abby repeated flatly.

"So in addition to being angry with me for doing what I did, being angry at Bullseye for not being dead, and being angry in general for the whole situation, you're going to be angry with yourself for something you had nothing to do with."

"Suicide, I was angry at you for trying to commit suicide. I'm shelving that for now so I can be more angry about the other stuff."

"Healthy," Matt remarked dryly. "Look, you wanted control of your own life and you deserved it. You can't be ashamed of that."

Abby shrugged, shoulders painfully tense. "Destiny, it's a bitch to argue with, especially when you lose."

"Destiny. If that's all there is, what could you have possibly done to stop Rachel becoming the next Treasure?"

"Something," Abby grumbled. "There had to be something."

"Even though destiny says there wasn't."

"You're mocking me."

"I'm paraphrasing you."

"That what you do in court?"

"Sometimes, when a witness says something that makes no sense."

"Well stop it," the teen ordered, rage and self-loathing threatening to boil over.

"You asked for the truth, I'm giving it to you."

"Don't."

"Changing positions now?"

"Yes, dammit!" Abby yelled. Spinning on her heel, Abby hurled the billy club forward in a fit of childishness. Glass shattered as the weapon sailed through an unfortunately-placed window.

It took three seconds for Elektra to make it to the door, a sai clenched in her good hand. After the gunshot that nearly shattered her world, she'd been jumpier than usual. Quickly assessing the scene, Elektra lowered her weapon, eyes travelling between her lover and her protégé.

"Sorry," Abby stated rather meekly, eyes locked on her shoes. "We were…yeah."

Feeling E's gaze burning into him, Matt shrugged helplessly. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Liar," the teen accused, craning her neck to see into the hallway. "Is-?"

"Rachel's downstairs," the older woman replied coolly. "I told her to stay there, she listened. You should try it. What happened to the window?"

Shoulders slumping, Abby nervously backed away from her guardian. "We were training."

"I got that part."

"Matt was baiting me."

"Matt was baiting you," Elektra parroted.

"I was explaining to her that the world and all its weight doesn't rest on her shoulders."

"See, baiting me."

Elektra hummed noncommittally. "Was the window also baiting you?"

"No," Abby mumbled. "Matt kept telling me to loosen my grip on the thing, so I loosened my grip on the thing, then I kind of dropped the thing."

"Dropped."

"Yeah."

"Through the window."

"Mom always said don't play ball in the house?"

Shaking her head, Elektra glared at Matt reproachfully. Sensing the scrutiny, Matt crossed his arms and let his eyebrows climb skyward. "She wanted to learn, what was I supposed to do?"

"Ignore her until she left you alone," the brunette replied.

"And this is the person we left in charge of the kid?" Abby muttered.

"If you needed to train, you could've asked me," Elektra snapped. She wouldn't admit to any kind of jealousy, but it was there. She and Abby didn't have much in the way of bonding activities, but punching and kicking each other was one of the items on that short list.

"If I'd asked, you'd have just ignored me until I left you alone," said Abby. "Anyway, your shoulder's…"

Green eyes narrowed, and Abby tactfully opted to shut up. The bullet wound was a source of pain and embarrassment that everyone tried not to mention. Except for Garrett, and that was only when he was actively looking for trouble.

"It's okay," Matt declared, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Nodding past Elektra, he waited for the other two to notice Rachel lurking in the hallway.

"I asked you to stay downstairs," said Elektra. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle, surprising everyone there to hear it.

Rachel shrugged, wearing a sheepish expression that was very close to Abby's. Shuffling over to Elektra, the blonde surveyed the broken window, along with the abandoned weapons. "Are you guys done exercising?"

"Yes," Elektra confirmed before Matt or Abby could speak. "They are. Go back downstairs, Matt will make lunch."

"That's what you get for baiting me," Abby joked.

"You can do the dishes," Elektra declared, turning her gaze on Abby.

"It was an accident!"

"Good, you can accidently do the dishes."

"If you guys are done, can I use those?" Rachel asked, staring at the discarded clubs.

"Rachel," Matt said gently, "those aren't toys. You don't know how to use them and you have to be careful with them."

"Abby threw hers out the window, that's not very careful."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" the teen exclaimed.

"Abby's not the best role model sometimes," Elektra declared, thinking that Rachel had been better at following instructions before she began spending much of her time with Abby. "Go back downstairs."

"_I'm _not the best role model?" Who do you think I learned from?"

Elektra was about to deliver a nasty rebuke when Rachel spoke up again. "But I do know how to use them."

"What?" Abby questioned, looking at the others in confusion.

"The billy clubs," said Rachel, indicating the weapons again. "I know how to use those, and I know how to do karate and judo too."

It shouldn't have surprised any of them, considering who she was, but somehow it did. At least for a moment. "Yeah," Abby nodded, thinking of her childish excitement at being called a prodigy, even though she'd never heard the word before then. "So did I at your age."

"Did your parents make it a secret?"

"Not right away," the teen replied. Perhaps if they had, her parents would still be alive.

"Oh. I had to keep it secret. Daddy wouldn't let me practice anything unless the tapes were on."

Matt's head snapped up. "Tapes? The same ones we talked about before?"

"Yeah. Daddy said the tapes would help me learn faster, but I wasn't allowed to practice without them. He said people would find out, but I guess they found out anyway, so it doesn't matter. Can we have lunch now?"

* * *

"So it wasn't just psychological then."

"Apparently not," Matt replied in a low murmur that matched Elektra's. Lunch over, the two adults were at the kitchen table, Abby and Rachel sitting in the living room nearby. The TV blared loud enough to cover Matt and Elektra's conversation.

"I should've known," Matt continued. "The Hand taught me to fight too."

Nodding absently, Elektra grimaced as her shoulder began torturing her again. "Son of a bitch."

Scooting forward in his chair, the lawyer carefully reached for Elektra's upper arm. She pulled away automatically, causing him to frown. "Relax, be still for a second."

"Never was very good at that," Elektra said dryly.

"Practice makes perfect," Matt argued, running his fingers up her arm and towards her shoulder. "Trust me."

"I do."

"Then relax the arm."

"If I could relax the arm, I'd relax the arm.

Shaking his head, Matt lightly pressed his fingers over the injured muscle, ignoring her pained intake of breath. Easing his right hand over certain nerve clusters and massaging too-tight muscles, Matt couldn't help scolding her a bit. "You should let me put this in a sling."

"I would if we had one."

"We do, get some use out of it."

Of course Garrett would've taken one from the hospital when they made their escape. Pain was impairing her thought processes. "There are lots of things I should do, doesn't mean I do them."

Matt smiled in amusement, pleased to note a relieved exhalation of breath as some of the tension bled from Elektra's body. "Abby really did learn from the best when it comes to not listening."

"Do as I say, not as I do," Elektra retorted, surprised to find that she could move her arm without signaling waves of agony. "Thank you," she said, squeezing his hand before he could pull it away.

"All you have to do is ask."

"Never was very good at that either."

"I know, you'd prefer to be in pain all day, much better solution."

He was still smiling, negating any sting the words might've had, but Elektra couldn't help looking away from him. Lowering her voice unnecessarily, the brunette let herself go just a bit. "I hate this."

Features softening, Matt raised her palm to his mouth kissing the scar there. Releasing her hand, he went to the living room and stood in front of the TV until Abby turned it off.

"What?" the teen asked.

"Why don't you guys go outside for awhile?"

"The show's not over."

"It's _Blue's Clues. _All this talk about do you see the clue and can you find the clue is making me feel bad about myself."

"Rachel wanted to watch it," Abby argued.

"You wanted to watch it," the blonde corrected. "I wanted to watch MTV."

Pinned under the gazes of her guardians, Abby's skin turned a color that was very reminiscent of both her guardians' costumes. "It reminds me of my childhood before my childhood went to sh-"

"Sure you want to finish that sentence?" Elektra barked.

"No. How about Rachel and I go outside for awhile?"

"Great plan."

Sending the girl out ahead of her, Abby hung back a second to speak with the adults. "Are you going to call Garrett about Rachel and the training thing?"

"It can wait," Elektra replied. She wasn't thrilled with playing babysitter again, but she also knew the importance of Garrett finding and isolating anything on his brother's computer that might be harmful. That, and she rather liked having him gone.

"Abby," Matt began. "You _do _know that there's nothing you could've-"

"Rationally yes, but I learned my guilt skills from you two. I'll be fine though, really."

Elektra wasn't convinced of that, but decided to let it go. As her charge was heading out the front door, she offered a final order. "Don't tell Garrett about that window, he's already got a running list of everything he's going to bill me for."

"Okay, I totally wasn't the one who spilled the-"

"Just," Elektra cut in. "Just go outside, try not to break anything."

"And shut up about it if I do?"

Elektra nodded, a tiny smirk curling her lips.

"That's cool," Abby replied, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "We're all about secrets, right? And I never told you about the garbage truck incident."

"Garbage truck incident?"

"There is no garbage truck incident," Matt interjected. "Go outside."

Waving off his tough guy stare, the teen spoke with her back to him as she headed out the door. "Whatever. Stop acting like you're the scary one in this family."

Shaking his head, Matt rejoined Elektra at the table, unconsciously taking her hand in his. "So. You hate this."

"You noticed. How long are we going to sit here doing nothing?"

"Until you recover, until a better plan comes along?"

Frustrated, Elektra glared out the kitchen window. "That's what I did last year. Sat at the Compound and waited because there was nothing else to do. I hated it then too."

Matt thought about telling her that the previous year hadn't been much of a picnic for him either, but managed to hold his tongue. There were so many things weighing on Elektra right now, and he wasn't going to add to them by starting a fight. "What else?"

"Besides the obvious?"

"Besides the obvious."

Sighing, Elektra gazed at him with a touch of desperation. "Garret told me I'd lost my edge, that I wasn't at the level I should be. Then I got shot."

"Elektra…"

"That wouldn't have happened three years ago. I'm out of practice."

"So what?" Matt asked, a slight edge to his voice. "You want to come out of retirement?"

Elektra slid her hand out of his, clenching it against a denim-clad thigh. What was she supposed to tell him, that sometimes she _did _want that? That being here playing at domesticity was reminding her just how much her life had changed? No, because that would be bad, that would give him too good a view of the ugly part of her. She didn't _really _want the mercenary life back, she knew it would cost her everything if she returned to that, but still. Voicing none of this, Elektra chose to turn the tables on him. "Are you going to be Daredevil again?"

Blinking in confusion, Matt seemed to have trouble comprehending the words. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Why have you been sneaking off to pull out the costume every chance you get?"

He didn't answer right away, cloudy eyes trained on the table. "What am I supposed to tell you?"

"The truth would be great."

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Matt fought the urge to run screaming from this conversation. "I never enjoyed it, you know. I hated it most of the time." Sensing her nod of acknowledgement, Matt continued his explanation. "Then after the Hand I was so damn scared of getting back in that suit. And honestly, I talked myself into thinking that it was okay to quit. I'd paid my dues so many times over and all I wanted was you and Abby and whatever life I could make for myself."

"And now things are different," Elektra stated in a tone that suggested she already knew what his answer would be.

"I don't know. Considering what's going on, I doubt it matters."

"It matters," Elektra replied softly. She needed to know what might happen. Needed to know if he was going to leave her every night to be a hero. She needed to know so she could figure out how she felt about that.

"Okay, it matters. The thing is, Elektra, as much as I hated that job, that costume, it also kept me sane. Without my father, without you…it gave me a purpose, even if I didn't want that purpose most of the time." He looked at her then, as much as he could, exposing all the raw pain that'd been festering since he'd picked up Garrett's gun and locked himself in the upstairs bathroom. "I lost it, Elektra. I felt like I had no purpose anymore."

"You had me," Elektra responded. It wasn't as though she didn't know what he was saying, didn't understand where he was going with this, but she couldn't quite mask the hurt his words caused.

"You're right," Matt replied shamefully. "That should be enough, shouldn't it? But I made a promise to my father and I don't think…I don't know that I have the right to give up on that."

"And it keeps you sane." Elektra tried not to be upset by that notion, even though _Matt_ had always served as her anchor, her path to sanity.

"I know you weren't happy about it when-"

"There are lots of things I'm not happy about," she interrupted, suddenly very unhappy about the direction of this conversation.

"It doesn't matter right now," he repeated. "We've got other things to deal with."

"You're right," the brunette agreed, wishing like hell that she'd never brought this up.

There was a long silence before Matt got up the nerve to speak again. "If you asked me not to-"

"Don't," said Elektra, shaking her head in the negative. "Just don't. We'll talk about it later."

He accepted that and Elektra breathed a silent sigh of relief. He'd give up Daredevil for good, burn the costume if that's what she asked of him. Elektra couldn't deal with that, couldn't be put in that position. Just like she couldn't get rid of her own red outfit, even though it'd been gathering dust for close to two years.

Silence reigned again, both of them lost in their own insecurities. Finally, Matt offered a much-needed subject change. "Did Garrett tell you what kind of pills he was on?"

Unsure where the question had come from, Elektra answered nonetheless. "Vicodin, other pain meds. I assumed it was a lot of the stuff you used to take. Why?"

Sighing, Matt frowned in her direction. "He had a nosebleed before he left today; his heart was going a mile a minute. I've heard him throw up a few times, but I thought it was withdrawal setting in."

"You don't think that now?"

"I wasn't paying a hell of a lot of attention before," Matt admitted. Truthfully, he'd tried to avoid the man as much as possible. "Some of his symptoms though…it doesn't seem like withdrawal to me."

"What symptoms?"

Matt shook his head helplessly. "I don't…there's something off about his vitals. His body signs aren't what they should be if…" Matt trailed off. He couldn't claim to have an explanation, but now that he was looking for it, he knew something wasn't right.

"Did you ask him about it?"

"I did, this morning."

"And?"

"Typically pleasant exchange. He told me to go fuck myself, said that I sounded like his mother, then added that if I did anything stupid while he was gone, he'd bash my skull in. What exactly did you see in him again?"

Elektra made a noise in the back of her throat. "Nothing. He was there sometimes, and I didn't need to lie. What are you thinking?"

"No idea," Matt replied. "Except that we might have to conduct another lie detector test when he gets back."

"I could call him," Elektra offered, her tone revealing just how much she wanted to do that.

"No, let him work on those files. I don't think he's against us, I just…"

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied after a moment's pause. "We'll figure it out later."

Nodding reluctantly, Elektra conceded that there wasn't much they could do about it now. Though if she found out that he was leaving them to play daycare while he looked for drugs… Putting those thoughts away for the time-being, Elektra favored Matt with a curious stare. "So what's the story with this garbage truck incident?"

* * *

Halfway to Connecticut, the Irishman was forced to take a detour. A semi-truck had rolled over on the interstate, wreaking havoc on the traffic. Scowling the man turned the big bike off the freeway and began planning another route. That trucker's incompetent driving was going to cost him valuable time. Still, the situation wasn't too dire. Pierce, Murdock, and Elektra shouldn't have any idea that he was coming, so there wasn't much need to rush. He'd get there when he got there, and then he'd do his job. Take the Treasure and deal with the others. He didn't anticipate them giving the child up willingly, especially not Garrett. In fact, he rather hoped they'd put up a cursory struggle. He needed the exercise.

* * *

"Did you need anything else, sir?"

"Only if you've got something to keep my head from exploding." Thrown off, the young waitress eyed Garrett warily before the hitman took pity on her, waving his hand dismissively.

Draining his coffee, Garrett cracked his knuckles and resumed his typing. He shouldn't have snapped at the poor girl, kid couldn't be older than Abby. This fucking headache was making him more of an asshole than usual. He'd have to give the waitress a decent tip when he left.

Garrett wasn't crazy about digging through his brother's files in public, but he hadn't lied about the lousy Internet access back at the cabin. There was also the small matter of getting out of the house so he could be miserable in peace. He'd eaten barely a thing all day, but he'd thrown up twice since he got here. His body was hating him again, and he desperately wanted some morphine, along with the usual stuff that would stop his body from hating him.

Inwardly berating himself for being such a whiner (Jimmy would've kicked his ass back to New York), Garrett refocused on his task. He wanted whatever crap Rachel had been listening to. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Lost in a jumble of passwords and firewalls, Garrett idly wondered if he could get away with taking this stuff to the Geek Squad.

What he'd been able to access so far had been thoroughly useless. Financial records from years ago, items related to the gun-running operation, along with a healthy dose of pornography. Much as he'd loathed the man, Garrett and his brother had been alike in some regards.

Eyes glazing from too much time staring at a too-small screen, Garrett opened up another file, breath catching at what he saw. It was an old picture, preserved forever through the miracles of technology. Rachel looked no older than two, perched on her uncle's shoulders with her father standing beside them. Garrett remembered that day at the park, remembered his niece's delight at being as tall as Jimmy. It was easy to forget that not everything had been bad, that there'd been some happy times. Eyeing the picture more closely, Garrett stared between the little girl on his shoulders and his big brother. Had it been happening then? Had Jimmy known what she was, been screwing with her mind before she started preschool? Two keystrokes later, the picture was gone, erased forever. Once this was over, Garrett would make new memories with his niece, memories that didn't involve Jimmy.

In the midst of decrypting a rather large document, Garrett was seized by an intense coughing fit. Cursing to himself, the hitman brought a napkin to his mouth, glaring over the top of it to keep the waitress away. At least there were no other customers around to gape at him. Spasms racked his body for what felt like an eternity before he was able to regain control. Pulling the napkin away, Garrett wasn't surprised to find it covered in blood. What irritated him was that it wasn't just his nose anymore. This time, his mouth tasted like copper as well. Swallowing his own blood, Garrett tried not to scowl when the waitress crept towards his table.

"Sir, are you all right? You look pretty pale and that coughing…"

Offering what he hoped was a charming smile, Garrett waved away her concern. "Keep away from the cancer sticks kid, they're nothing but trouble." In reality, he'd never touched a cigarette in his life, smoking being one of the few voices he _hadn't _taken up. "Tell you what," he continued. "You leave me to my devices here," he indicated the computer, "and I'll tip you like I ate every meal here for the last week."

The smile and the bribe seemed to do the job. Returning his conspiratorial grin, the young woman nodded towards the laptop. "Is it important, what you're working on?"

Smirking, Garrett hit a few keys before turning the computer for her to see. The starting screen for an online version of Pong filled up the monitor. "Important is in the eye of the beholder, right? Woman I'm living with, she's not big on computers, hates it when I sit around and play games all day."

"Maybe the woman you're living with wants to pry your attention away from those games. Maybe she'd like a little attention too."

"You trying to lower your tip?" Garrett joked. "It's a good guess, but no. Last time I tried to give her attention, she threw me off a building." Pretending he was kidding, the hitman offered a final bit of advice. "Keep away from guys too, okay? We're all jerks."

"So I hear. At least your man enough to admit it."

Garrett waited for the girl to disappear into the back before getting rid of the computer game and resuming his search. After twenty more minutes of nothing, he opted for a break and dialed Chastity's number. It took eight rings to get an answer.

"I'm not here right now, please don't leave a message."

"You okay, Chast?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You took awhile to pick up."

"I was hoping you'd give up."

Sighing, Garrett remembered that their last conversation hadn't been entirely pleasant. "I'm sorry, Chast."

"For not giving up? You should be."

"For making you think that I only call when I need something."

"I don't think that. True, you only call when you need something, but I don't think that at all."

"How's it going over there?"

"Are you asking how I'm doing, or are you asking how I'm doing at clearing your friend Murdock?"

"He's not my friend, and what do you think?"

"Okay then. I got in touch with this FBI guy Cromwell, he was in charge of Murdock's case before S.H.I.E.L.D. took it over. Turns out Cromwell and most of the guys working that case have quite a few skeletons in their closets."

"Please tell me they're the illegal kind."

"Oh yeah. I did a little digging, found evidence linking them all to a very long list of charges."

"Did you find evidence linking them to Fisk?"

"I'd like to take credit for that, but I had help. Ben Urich, your friend Murdock knows him."

"Murdock isn't my friend. Urich, isn't he the one who-"

"—exposed baldy the first time, yes. Seems he wasn't too happy when Fisk got that pardon, surprise, surprise. Anyway, he's been doing research ever since it happened, compiling all of Fisk's dirty little secrets."

"Guy must have a lot of filing cabinets."

"Sounds like a fair bet. Long story short, I called him, did the anonymous source thing, and between the two of us, we should be able to lock him up and trash the key this time. At the very least, we'll be able to prove that the NYPD and the FBI jailed an innocent blind man based on fake video evidence, and the orders of a fat guy on a power trip. It'll take awhile for everything to get sorted out though. Funny how hard it is to find an honest lawman these days."

"I don't mean to be flip, but you're a lawman too, and you're neck-deep in illegal activities."

"Law _woman_, John, and don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I put in a lot of overtime for you."

"You always do, and I'm always grateful."

"Hmm. Grateful enough to show how grateful you are?"

"What do you want, Chastity?"

"You know what I want. Come back and let us help you."

"No."

"John-"

"Chastity, if I come back, the boss is going to know that you've been helping me, then both of us are going to be screwed."

"You don't understand. Fury isn't Armstrong, he's a good guy. If you turn yourself in, the medical team might be able to help."

"Like they helped me before? No thanks."

"They saved your life, John."

"So they could use me as a lab rat," the hitman snapped. "Didn't do a very good job of it either."

There was a brief silence on the other line. When she spoke again, Chastity's voice had become unusually quiet. "What was I supposed to do, John?"

"You could've asked my opinion."

"You were dying for God's sake." Another brief pause. "Look, I know I was supposed to take point on the op-"

"Chast, don't," Garrett cut in, his headache reaching crisis levels. Despite that, the hitman typed with one hand, declaring an end to his break as he scanned through more files. "You know me, always complaining. Truth is, I'm glad it was me who got blown to hell instead of you."

"You don't mean that."

"Eh, maybe I do, maybe I don't. I do kind of love you though."

"That's nice; I've always wanted to be kind of loved."

"Don't knock it. You were all the way in love with your husband once, and look how that worked out."

"I was never in love with Craig; he was great in bed. Better than you, not that that's saying much."

"You might want to know that I kind of hate you now."

"Fine. Hold on a second, I'm missing the end of my movie."

"Ah, you're so busy pulling overtime that you and Nelson are watching foreign orgy films."

"Did you bug the room? Hang on a minute."

Rolling his eyes, Garrett tapped impatiently on the computer keys. He didn't think Chastity would actually bother to look at any of the files before she handed them over, but there was nothing wrong with double-checking. If she _had_ noticed an odd bit of audio or two, it might save him hours of wading through an entire hard drive. Of course, asking her about that would be much easier if she'd take the time to answer him.

After a minute of nothing but indecipherable background noise, the hitman turned impatient. Still focused on the computer, Garrett made a last-ditch attempt at getting Chastity's attention. "Chast," he called flatly, employing an old tactic. "Chast. Chast. Chastity. Chast. Chast." Getting no response, he decided to mix things up a bit. "Agent McBryde. Agent McBryde. Agent McBryde. Chast. Chast. Chastity. Chastity. Chast. Chast. Chast."

"WHAT, JOHN?"

"Hi," Garrett replied, wincing as she screamed into the receiver.

"I should've let you die in Guatemala. Why do I always forget that?"

"Hey, you didn't happen to look over any of those flash drives before you handed them over?"

"I was too busy copying them and trying not to get caught doing it."

Frowning, Garrett paused in his typing. "Copying? S.H.I.E.L.D. still has the originals?"

"How would it look if they didn't?"

Sighing, the hitman resumed his task. "Way too suspicious?"

"Way too suspicious," the agent confirmed. "What does it matter?"

"Doesn't, I just don't like the idea of Fury and his men poking through my brother's computer."

"Yeah well, them losing everything that was on that computer would raise more red flags then we need right now."

"But you didn't check through the files at all?"

"No, and I repeat, why does it matter?"

"Doesn't," Garrett replied "Never mind."

"Fine, no longer minding. Will you at least _think _about what I said?"

"If I say yes, will you take back the thing about me being lousy in bed?"

"Dammit, John…"

"Hey, I'm not nearly as bad off as lab rat number two, okay? The drugs-"

"Don't bullshit me, John. I know you've built a tolerance for the drugs."

"So I'll find new ones, all right? Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

"You're _dying, _Garrett."

It took him a moment to recover from that.. "You called me Garrett. You don't usually do that."

"And what does that tell you?"

Sighing, Garrett examined the hand resting on the keyboard. The skin over his fingers was slightly discolored, and the veins in his hand were startling prominent. "Everyone's dying, Chastity. Starts as soon as you get shot into the world."

"But you're dying faster than that."

"True," he acknowledged reluctantly. "But the dying faster part is happening very, very slowly. Anyway, I'm on grocery duty, got to get back before the roomies resort to cannibalism."

"Garrett-"

"I'll call you later, be nice Nelson."

Deciding that he was very much in need of a cheer up, Garrett hung up on Chastity, shut down the computer, and headed for the only bar in town. Since he needed drink money, the hitman wasn't able to tip his waitress quite as generously as he'd promised.

* * *

The Irishman arrived later than he would've liked, but some things couldn't be helped. It wouldn't take long now that he was here. The only possible snag would be if Abby or Elektra had a vision of his presence, but he was willing to take his chances on that. Neither of them had completed their training, and the child was far too young for Kimagure. Fairly confident in his ability to surprise them, the man on the motorcycle continued his journey.

* * *

"Hey," Elektra greeted, taking a seat at the picnic table in back of the cabin.

"Hey yourself," Abby replied, smiling as her mentor sat across from her. "You're losing it, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"No one's tried to kill us in like a week, there's no ass for you to kick around here, and you're losing it."

Chuckling a bit, Elektra didn't bother with a lie. "How about you, are you losing it?"

"The window thing didn't give that away for you?"

"I was trying to be polite and not bring it up."

"Gee, thanks." Sobering, Abby looked towards the edge of the woods, where Matt was once again entertaining Rachel. "I don't know," the teen admitted. "I'm just…pissed off. And every time I try not to be pissed off, it backfires."

Not entirely pleased with the girl's choice of words, Elektra chose to let it go this time. "I know the feeling."

"I bet. Matt doesn't suck with kids."

"That surprises you?"

"Well yeah, but it also surprises me that Rachel hasn't run screaming from you."

"That's nice to hear."

"I'm just saying, you're not exactly kid-friendly."

"My life's not exactly kid-friendly," Elektra corrected. Abby's comments served as a good segue for why she'd come out here, if only she could bring herself to the point. "You know this is just temporary."

"Yeah," Abby acknowledged in a tone that suggested just how foolish she thought the question was..

"Good."

"Yeah, good."

"I just…I know you hate losing people-"

"Everyone hates losing people."

"I know," said Elektra. "And I know you like Rachel."

The teen gave an uncomfortable shrug. "She's good company, other than the brainwashing thing which totally wasn't her fault. And it's not like there's a support group for kids who're supposed to save the world."

"I know," Elektra repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "And I get that you're protective of her, but when this is over-"

"Whenever that is-"

"When this is over, it's over. Garrett's going to take her, probably somewhere out of the country.-"

"I know okay? I didn't exactly think we'd all stay in touch and be best friends and have barbecues together."

"Abby-"

"E, it's fine, really. It doesn't-"

The buzz of a cell phone interrupted Abby's rather poor denial. Frustrated, Elektra gave a weak smile of apology, grabbing the phone from her pocket. Thinking it was Garrett, she didn't bother checking the display. "Where are you?"

"Hello, Elektra."

The ex-assassin froze, finding Matt's gaze across the yard, watching as he jogged towards her. "Ethan."

"We should speak."

"Aren't we?" With everything else that had happened, she'd nearly forgotten about Stick's right hand man, the man they'd left unconscious on the side of the road after he threatened to take Rachel.

"Yes, I suppose so. You need to give the Treasure to me."

"You need to stop ordering me around like one of your men. Where have you been the last week?"

"Don't think I didn't know where you were, that I haven't been watching."

"Then why are you calling now?"

"I've had things to do, and I actually thought the girl might be safe with you. My mistake."

"She's fine, Ethan."

"Is she? Didn't Murdock have a bit of a backslide several nights ago?"

By this point, Matt was standing next to her, and Elektra could feel him go rigid. "If you were so concerned, why not take her then?"

"Because I didn't want to take on three murderers and a former Treasure without reinforcements. Now I have reinforcements."

Feeling pressure on her forearm, Elektra looked at Matt sharply, noting the urgency in his gaze. At the same moment, her Kimagure training kicked in, affording her a glimpse of just how many men were outside the front door. Most of Stick's people might be dead, but it seemed that Ethan had contacted every last one of them who wasn't.

Running scenarios as fast as her mind would let her, Elektra motioned for Abby to get up, watching Matt go back towards Rachel. "This isn't how Stick does things."

"Since when have you ever claimed to know how Sensei's mind worked?"

"Worked?" Elektra repeated, taking hold of Abby and steering her towards the house. "There was never a body."

"You're changing the subject."

Any questions she had about Stick would have to wait. "She's got family."

"Pierce is an addict and an alcoholic. If he was able to take care of her, you wouldn't be the one doing it."

"He's her uncle, he loves her."

"He's not trustworthy."

"And you are?"

"Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"I didn't like Stick's methods, I like yours less."

"She needs to be protected."

"Look, when Garrett gets back-"

"_Garrett _has lied to you from the moment you saw him. "

Elektra froze for just a moment before resuming her trek. "If that's true and you didn't say anything back in Jersey, then Garrett's not the only one."

"I didn't have the information then."

"What information?"

"Aside from his connection with Bullseye?"

Elektra stopped a second time. "What?"

"Right, he didn't tell you."

"Talk, Ethan."

"Bring me the Treasure and I will."

"Goddammit, what makes you think you can come here and-"

"It's my job."

"Stick wouldn't have-"

"The Hand has changed their tactics; we need to do the same."

"I'm not going to be part of this. You give me a reason, because I'm not going to be the one who separates them unless you come up with something good."

"Bullseye."

"What about him?"

No reply.

"Don't try to manipulate me, Ethan. You tell me-"

"Soon enough."

"Ethan-"

"We'll discuss it later, I've got something else that needs doing."

The line went dead.

"What's going on?" Abby questioned, Matt and Rachel directly behind her.

"Ethan," Elektra replied simply.

"Yeah, that part I got, but-"

"Get upstairs, take Rachel with you."

"It's one guy. Garrett took him out no problem last time."

"It's not one guy, and Garrett didn't do a very good job of getting rid of him."

The sound of many footsteps caught everyone's attention. Looking back towards the woods, Elektra belatedly noticed men emerging from the trees. From the corner of her eye, she saw the ones from the front yard moving in to surround them. Ethan had always taken his assignments far too seriously.

"Okay, so it's not one guy," Abby mumbled.

"Elektra," Matt said tightly, pushing Rachel behind him.

"Just wait," she replied. "They're not going to risk hurting her in a fight."

"You sure about that?" Abby wondered as the warriors moved closer.

Elektra said nothing. Ethan had clearly taken control over these guys, and they weren't behaving like the ones she'd known years ago. "Son of a bitch."

"Yeah," Abby nodded. "Like the cops and Bullseye and Kingpin weren't enough. Let's throw in the ninjas too, just for fun."

* * *

He ended up skipping the bar. The smoke would've restarted his coughing, and he _had _promised E supplies in exchange for babysitting services. Garrett strolled across the mostly empty parking lot, laden down with brown paper bags. He felt dizzy again, but he ignored it. Depositing his burdens inside the truck, he took a moment to just stand there in front of the open back door. He _was _getting sicker, no denying that, though Chastity didn't have to be so damn blunt about it. Sometimes he wondered what it was that made him kind of love her.

Things wouldn't be nearly as bad if he hadn't gotten his drug flow interrupted. The stash at his apartment had been seized, and he'd been forced to steal substitutes when they'd taken Elektra from the hospital. Substitutes weren't the real thing though, and he'd deteriorated rapidly because of that.

Absently rolling his tongue over the roof of his mouth, Garrett was dismayed to taste copper. The hand he raised to his lips came back red. Christ, but this was getting annoying..

Distracted by his own traitorous body, Garrett didn't see the man coming up behind him. Therefore, it was quite a shock when he felt a knife tip press into his back. "Don't turn around."

The familiar accent made Garrett want to retch. His reflexes had been slow the last few days, lousy substitute drugs. "Hey, how's it going? Been awhile, huh?"

"Don't turn around."

"Does it look like I'm turning around?" Garrett replied, slowly raising his hands in the air. "Let's not do something one of us is going to regret."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Is this really necessary? Doesn't seem like your usual style?"

"Necessary? Yeah, I think it is. You're a problem."

"See, now you sound just like Mom."

"Good, maybe that'll comfort you."

Garrett knew that tone, had employed that tone on many of his victims if they started to blab too much. Unlike Elektra, he didn't like it when they blabbed. "Aww for fuck's sake," he mumbled, making a grab for the gun at his waist.

His attacker was faster. Before Garrett could process what was happening, the blade had cut through his jacket and clothes, burying itself in the flesh underneath.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: **Hey all, here comes another chapter. I'm going to guess another three or four updates before this baby's finally completed. Unfortunately, there's a lot of stuff involving Maya's character that I planned on doing, but simply won't have time for. There are enough plots and subplots crammed into this thing without me adding another. So, blame it on the creative process, or my poor ability to stick with outlines, but there's material I set up for that just isn't going to show up. Whether it gets dealt with at a later date in a different story depends on a lot of factors. Either way, know that we're inching towards the end, slowly but surely. As always, reviews make me happy, and happy writers work faster.

* * *

Garrett Pierce had never liked Ethan Burke. The Irishman was stupid and arrogant and self-righteous and generally a pain in the ass. When Burke made it clear that he had every intention of stealing away Garrett's niece, the hitman had liked him even less. Garrett left him knocked out instead of dead only because Rachel had been there, and Rachel didn't need to see another murder.

As Ethan twisted a knife into Garrett's back, the hitman reflected that he really should've followed his gut and shot the man in the head. For a moment, he simply kept still, lost in the unreality of it. Ethan Burke had actually taken some initiative. Ethan Burke was going to be the end of him. Ethan. Fucking. Burke. Fuck if that wasn't depressing. Too depressing in fact. No, Garrett decided, that simply wasn't in the cards.

Ethan seemed to come to the same realization at about the same time. A look of shocked bewilderment crossed his features as he pressed the blade harder into Garrett's back. The thing of it was, the knife _wasn't _going into Pierce's back. It'd cut through the clothing, hitting _something _underneath, but it sure as well wasn't skin.

"All right, that was completely uncalled for." Very much annoyed, Garrett smashed his elbow into Ethan's solar plexus, head-butting him in the face at the same moment. Stunned, Ethan dropped the knife, stumbling back a few steps. Cracking his neck, Garrett went about retrieving the blade. Scowling, he simply reached back and pulled. Lazily, he tossed the knife through the back door of his truck, which still hung open. "Now we know why the teachers wouldn't let you have scissors."

Wheezing for breath, Ethan straightened up nonetheless, advancing on his target. "I see you're…you're old bosses did a good job."

Shaking his head, Garrett dodged what would've been a killing blow, finally getting hold of his gun. "Do you try to be wrong all the time or is it a natural thing?" Already confident of the answer, Garrett brought the gun down over the back of Ethan's neck. Taking the other man's legs out from under him was exceedingly simple. "Let's play a game huh? How about the one where you give me one good reason not to shoot you right now. If you can't think of one don't worry about it, I wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

On the ground, staring down the barrel of Pierce's omnipresent revolver, Ethan merely grimaced in irritation. Pierce had caught him off-guard, using surprise to gain the upper hand. It meant nothing. The man was woefully inadequate, always had been. Before he could pull the trigger, Ethan knocked the weapon from Garrett's hand, causing it to roll beneath the truck. Landing a kick to the other man's kneecaps, Ethan moved back to his feet, glaring reproachfully the entire time.

"Well that's annoying," Garrett stated, watching his weapon slide out of his reach. "Now I have to get my hands dirty. Or not." Without breaking eye contact, Garrett reached back into the truck and came back with the blade.

"You don't have the nerve, or the ability," Burke taunted, adapting a fighting stance.

"I don't know, I wouldn't think you'd have the man-parts to go Brutus on me, but look where we are. And as for the ability part, I'm pretty decent at carving a turkey."

* * *

A second look confirmed that there weren't quite as many men as Elektra originally thought. Glancing sideways at Matt, Elektra fought the urge to draw her sai immediately. "Twenty?"

"Twenty-five," Matt corrected. "Woods behind us are clear."

Sparing a look over her shoulder, Elektra saw that he was right. Ethan's men continued to approach, but there was no one coming at them from behind. Still, that didn't mean there wasn't someone hidden deeper within the trees. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

That was all she needed. "Abby-"

"No," the teen cut her off. "Not leaving."

"I'm not arguing with you right now."

"So don't. Rachel, go back where we took that walk the other day."

"What about you?" the girl asked fearfully.

"She's going with you," Elektra replied.

"Great, except that I'm not."

"Dammit, Abby-"

"Rachel," said Matt, breaking into the argument. "Go. Right now." The tone was too much for a seven-year-old to ignore. Anxiety and reluctance written across her face, Rachel scampered off to the relative safety behind them. When he was sure she'd be okay, Matt turned his attention back to the others. "Can you fight with the arm like that?"

Glaring in annoyance, Elektra never took her eyes off the approaching men. "If I have to. You should've given her your phone."

"It's upstairs. You could've given her yours."

"Can you guys like, bicker about this later?" Abby snapped.

"Sure, we'll do that right around the time you start doing what we ask you to do."

Not granting Abby a chance to respond, Elektra stepped forward slightly, Matt moving with her. These guys wore the usual white uniforms, minus the usual hoods. None of them were familiar to her. Ethan must've gone on a recruiting mission. Scanning the ranks, Elektra was surprised to find that Burke wasn't among them. Discreetly gripping her sai, Elektra watched with narrowed eyes as a man near the front broke away from the others, cautiously moving towards her.

"We're not here for trouble, we just want the girl."

Keeping the sai hidden under her shirt, Elektra felt Matt's hand squeeze hers. He wasn't going for comfort this time, it was a warning. A warning to follow her own advice, wait and see. "That's not happening."

He was getting closer. In her peripheral vision, Elektra saw Abby take a step forward, saw Matt throw out his arm to stop her. These guys were definitely new, and Elektra hated that. The men she'd interacted with had possessed a frustrating but fierce loyalty to Stick. These men didn't.

"She'll be safer with us, you have to realize that."

"She doesn't actually," Matt argued. "Your camp's gone, so are most of your men. Who's to say she's any safer with you than she would be here?"

There was ripple of indistinct murmurs, but nothing in the way of an answer.

If she were the type to do such a thing, Elektra would've rolled her eyes. Where did these people come from? Useless drones that blindly accepted whatever Ethan had been feeding them. Speaking of, "I don't know you," Elektra stated, addressing the man at the front. "I'm not doing this with someone I don't know."

"I don't know that you have a choice."

"I do, don't test me on that. Where's Ethan?"

More uncomfortable muttering.

"I know he ordered you here, I want to talk to him." Elektra knew perfectly well that Burke wasn't here, shocking as that was. It didn't matter. More talking meant less fighting, less chance of Abby or Rachel being harmed.

The man she didn't know glanced past her, towards the area Rachel had fled to. "He's fixing a problem."

Something in his tone made Elektra very, very nervous. "What's he done? What do you people think you're doing?"

"We're ensuring the future by ensuring that the Treasure is kept safe."

Useless, mindless drones. Useless, mindless drones who were closing in on them. Glancing at Matt again, Elektra confirmed what she already knew. "Twenty-five to three?"

"Twenty-five to three," Matt stated. "You sure you can-"

"You're not doing this on your own," Elektra cut in.

"Nope," Abby added," that'd just be stupid."

Elektra thought it no more stupid than allowing the teen to participate in this, but it was useless to argue.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Abby favored the older woman with an oddly reassuring smile. "Hey, got to put all that training to use, right? I can handle it."

And, for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, Elektra believed that Abby _could _handle it. "Follow our lead."

"I can do that."

"Don't separate from us, let them come to you."

"I can do that, too."

"You'd better," Elektra replied, preparing for what would happen next. She didn't think any of these men were truly out for blood, but they _were_ out for Rachel. And, for other reasons she couldn't quite fathom, Elektra found herself ready to stop them from getting to her.

* * *

When it was over, the backyard was littered with bodies. Standing amidst the aftermath, Abby didn't bother hiding the awe she felt. "That was insane. You guys were insane. I've never seen you guys fight _together _like that. You guys were seriously insane."

Matt heard her, but said nothing. He was too busy reassuring a shaken seven-year-old that the bad men were gone. Standing close to the teenager, Elektra quickly assessed the situation. All of Burke's lackeys were well and truly out, and they'd likely stay that way for awhile.

"How did you not tear your shoulder up again?" Abby questioned, visibly surprised as she realized her mentor hadn't been reinjured.

"I've had worse fights with worse injuries," Elektra responded tersely. Truthfully, she was more surprised by her own show of restraint than her ability to incapacitate twelve men using only one arm. Twelve men unconscious and she hadn't had to stab any of them. Not fatally, at least.

"Right, you're definitely telling me about that stuff someday."

"Add it to the list," Elektra replied, even though she had no intention of regaling the teen with old war stories. No matter how many times Abby might ask.

"Did you see?" Abby continued. "I got rid of like half of those guys. Full-blown ninja guys."

"It wasn't half," Elektra corrected, not looking away from Matt and Rachel. "And most of them were new, way below warrior standard. Ethan must've collected them up from wherever without bothering to train them properly."

"Gee, way to ruin the moment," Abby said quietly.

The hurt within those words had Elektra looking up. She was very suddenly and very painfully reminded of Nikolas Natchios. Nothing had ever been good enough for him. No matter how hard she worked or how well she did, it'd never been enough. In some ways, chiefly her desire to shelter Abby from anything and everything, Elektra guessed that she'd already become her father. The realization wasn't earth-shattering, nor was it terrifying. Papa's relentlessness had kept her alive, and that had always been the goal. His parenting style had kept her alive, but it'd done other things too, things that weren't entirely good.

"Hey," Elektra murmured, waiting for Abby to look at her. Then she said something Nikolas Natchios would never say…had never said. "You did good. Great."

It wasn't much, but it was all she could say. It seemed to be enough, because the teen smiled in a way she hadn't for days. Smiled in a way that told Elektra that a little more freedom with praise might be in order.

Matt joined them a moment later. Rachel clutched his hand in a death grip, but showed no other sign of emotion. It worried her, but Elektra couldn't be surprised by it. With the week she'd had, they were lucky Rachel was responding to them at all.

Letting Rachel hold on to him, the blind man spoke quietly in Elektra's ear. "You ready for more company?"

"Not even remotely," Elektra replied in the same low voice.

"Get ready," was Matt's answer.

There was an edge of worry in his voice, but nothing too alarming.. She was about to question him when the buzz of Abby's cell phone cut her off.

Digging around in her pocket, the teen eventually located the device, bringing it to her ear just before voicemail could take over. "Yeah?"

Matt frowned, fighting the urge to cover Rachel's ears. Without his hearing, Elektra was unable to know exactly what was being said. She did, however, recognize Garrett's voice. Garrett's very loud, very angry voice.

"Would you chill for a sec?" Abby hissed, trying valiantly to end the ranting. "I know but...we couldn't…no, would you seriously just-"

Plucking the phone from Abby's grasp, Elektra brought it to her own ear. "Garrett."

The tone should've stopped him cold, and on any other day it would have. This was not any other day. "Don't you people answer your phones? Jesus Christ Elektra, you know how many times I ca—"

"We were busy," Elektra stated, moving slightly away from the group.

_That _tone did give him pause. "Is Rachel okay?"

"She's fine."

"Elektra-"

"_Fine, _Garrett."

"What happened?"

"Ethan happened. He sent a bunch of amateurs here to get her." It was a sloppy move, but without explicit directions from Stick, Ethan had always been sloppy.

"Fucking stupid fucking bastard," Garrett said angrily.

"We took care of them, but Ethan's not here. I don't know-"

"I do know," Garrett interjected, voice laced with venom. "Fucking bastard tried killing me outside that Mom and Pop grocery joint we passed on the way in."

"What?"

"Yeah, surprised me too."

"Burke tried to kill you?"

"Burke tried to kill me. It was very aggravating."

"And you're not-"

"I'm fine, disappointing as that is for you."

"You beat Burke. Again."

"You could at least _try _not to reveal your abject shock. Just because I ignored everything out of Stick's mouth, doesn't mean I ignored _all _of everything. Besides, Burke stabs like a girl. And when I say girl, obviously I'm not including you in that generalization."

"Is he dead?" Elektra questioned a bit too loudly. Rachel's eyes became fearful again, while Matt and Abby frowned disapprovingly.

"He should be, but he isn't. You aren't the only one gong soft."

Ignoring the jab, and the question, Elektra focused on the immediate. "Where are you?"

"Five minutes away."

"Two minutes away."

Two responses, one from Garrett, one from Matt. Well-used to Matt's occasional eavesdropping, Elektra didn't pretend to care about it. "Ethan?"

"Thought about leaving him again, but he was making the parking lot ugly. Rachel's okay, how about the rest of you?"

"Good, everyone's good."

"Good to hear. I'm going to need help with the groceries then."

* * *

Garrett returned two minutes later. First on his agenda was to grab Rachel in a bear hug. When he asked how she was, the girl claimed to be fine. She almost looked at him when she said it. Then she said something else.

"You weren't here again. The bad guys came again and you weren't here."

Crouched with her on the floor of the living room, he had nothing to say to that. He tried anyway. "Rach…I didn't know…I didn't think…"

"What happened to your jacket?"

Elektra, who'd joined them inside, looked up at the child's inquiry. Circling around him, she scanned Garrett over. Sure enough, there was a hole torn into the black leather.

"Nothing, kiddo, it's nothing."

As quickly as he could, Garrett shooed Rachel off to her room, surprised and disturbed when she obeyed without comment. Temporarily ignoring those concerns, he stood from the floor, turning his gaze on Elektra. "Haven't seen Abby yet."

"She's outside with Burke's men."

"And you're good with that?"

"Burke's men are out cold. If that starts to change, she cracks them over the head with one of Matt's clubs"

"Whack-A-Ninja. Sounds fun."

"What happened there?" Elektra questioned, indicating his wrecked jacket.

"What else, I got stabbed in the back."

Elektra blinked several times. "Ethan stabbed you in the back."

"More importantly, Ethan ruined my favorite jacket. Janelle gave me this jacket."

"Garrett."

"What?"

"Why aren't you dead?"

"Because I couldn't die without hearing your sweet voice just one more time." When Elektra failed to show amusement, Garrett pulled off the ruined garment, threw it on the couch, and pulled up the bottom of his sweatshirt. "Hate to say this, but you kind of saved my life, you and Chastity. You have no idea how much that irritates me."

Stepping closer, Elektra examined the heavy black material under Garrett's clothes. It reminded her of Kevlar, but it looked lighter than that. "Body armor.

"Too cautious, infinitely better than not cautious enough, Garrett replied, pulling the shirt back down. "This particular brand was a gift from Chastity, S.H.I.E.L.D. prototype. Light but strong, very useful. Found it in the closet upstairs while I was looking for Pictionary."

"How does that add up to me saving your life?"

"Remember that time you stabbed me in Chicago? It irritated me; I got blood on my favorite shirt. After that, I wore body armor."

He forced a cocky smirk, but Elektra remained stoic. "Did you get what you needed on the computer?"

The smile faltered. They'd been invaded by wannabe ninjas, Ethan had tried to kill him, and she was asking about computer files? "I looked, didn't find much."

"You find that information on Bullseye? The stuff you've been trying _not _to find?"

The smile disappeared. "What the hell, Elektra?"

"Ethan called before we were attacked. He said some things."

"And you believed those things? It's Burke, Elektra. _Burke_."

"Thanks for clearing that up."

"Jesus _fucking _Christ, E. Whatever he told you-"

Matt arrived at that moment, distracting both of them. Entering through the open front door, he held Ethan in a fireman's carry. Kicking the door closed, he dropped the blonde man to the ground in front of Garrett and Elektra. Actually, 'dropped' wasn't a good description. 'Threw' or 'hurled' might've been better terms. Sensing their bemusement at his uncharacteristically rough behavior, Matt shrugged in the general direction of his companions. "Lost my grip."

Snorting, Garrett shot Elektra a look before striding towards the door. He kicked Burke in the ribs on the way. "Oops," he said blandly. "I tripped."

"You also stabbed him in the leg," said Matt, without sounding particularly upset about the knowledge.

"Yeah, missed my real target. Knives are _her_ thing," Garrett replied, glancing backwards at Elektra, and then sideways at Matt. "On the up side, Ethan's jerk-off buddies didn't trash the house. Oh and Elektra, I bought that coffee you wanted."

* * *

Janelle Porter returned to her apartment with a briefcase full of paperwork and absolutely no desire to tackle it. If the hours of tedium looming ahead weren't enough, she'd also had a bit of a shock earlier in the week. Garrett was a wanted man.

Fumbling for her keys, Janelle cursed softly to herself, vowing to clean out her purse as soon as possible. God damn purse. God damn Garrett. It wasn't bad enough that a strange woman barged into his apartment on their six month anniversary, bringing along a teenager she claimed was his daughter. It wasn't bad enough that Janelle had to endure a long list of pathetic excuses before ending it over the phone and returning the watch that was supposed to be his. It wasn't bad enough that she'd been played for a fool and that she made up for that by going on an ice cream binge. It wasn't bad enough that she'd have to hit the gym every day for the next two weeks. Garrett. Garrett the fugitive.

Finally locating her keys, Janelle stormed into the apartment, put away her coat and briefcase, and immediately headed for the liquor cabinet. Snatching up a glass, she pondered what to drown her sorrows with.

Garrett the liar, Garrett the criminal. As if Janelle really _needed _to be called in for questioning by some hush-hush government official, in front of the whole office no less. Bitch. Bitch with too much eye liner. Bitch with too much eye liner and a stupid name. Charity-Something, classified division of the U.S. government. As if Janelle had known _anything _about whatever the hell Garrett was doing.

Grabbing the olives for her martini, Janelle glanced sideways at one of her cabinets, frowning when she noticed it was slightly ajar. She didn't remember opening that. Setting the olives on the counter, Janelle closed the cabinet door, belatedly noticing the toothpick lying directly below it. Holding the toothpick between her fingers, she wondered if the maid was sneaking drinks while she was at work.

"Sorry, you don't mind if I borrow these, do you?"

Whirling, Janelle gasped at the sight before her. There was a man in her apartment. A man with a target cut in his forehead and her box of toothpicks in his hand.

"Let's you and me have a chat," he said casually, twirling one of the small wooden objects between his fingers. "I'm looking for some people; I think you might know one of them."

* * *

"I think you gave him a concussion after the stabbing was over," Matt observed, listening to Ethan's vitals.

"I wanted quiet time on the way home," Garrett replied, pacing in front of a still-dazed Ethan Burke.

Everyone but Rachel was gathered in the kitchen. The child was still in her room with a box of crayons and a Disney CD meant to drown out the sounds below. Matt and Abby were next to each other at the counter, with Ethan tied to a chair by the table. Garrett continued to pace while Elektra stood at Ethan's left.

The bearded man had been in and out for awhile now. Matt did a half-assed job at bandaging the wound on Ethan's thigh, and in return, Ethan sent away his poor excuse for reinforcements. If Ethan didn't return in an hour, they were supposed to come back. No one in the room expected them to come back.

"So Ethan," Garrett began, "let's talk."

"I have nothing to say to you," Burke replied fuzzily.

"Ethan," Garrett barked, snapping his fingers close to the man's face. "Nap time's over, remember?"

"Why am I still alive, Mr. Pierce?" Beaten and concussed, Ethan still managed to sound arrogant.

"Partly because these two are a bad influence on me," Garrett replied, looking between Matt and Elektra. "Mostly because you knew where my brother was, you knew about Rachel, and I want to find out what else you know."

"There isn't anything else. The fact that your niece is the Treasure is known to a lot of people. It's not my fault you were the last to find out."

"Well?"

"I can't tell whether or not he's lying," Matt replied.

"What do you mean you can't tell?"

"I _mean _that his vitals are off and he's sweating too much, but that might be from the blood loss and the concussion you gave him."

"Which I'm sure you tried to fix when you tossed him down like a potato sack."

"Don't start," Elektra commanded. "Ethan, talk."

"About what? I only know what Sensei told me about Rachel and her father, and I've told you all that."

"Then talk about other things."

"Maybe you could elaborate on why you felt the need to kill me," Garrett suggested.

"I needed the Treasure. You wouldn't have given her to me."

"You helped us before," said Abby. "You got Matt out of jail. Why do that if you're just going to-"

"The men who came here weren't going to hurt you," Burke interrupted.

"Yeah," Abby replied. "Because they obviously sucked at it."

"They only wanted the Treasure. I told you before; Sensei didn't want you three harmed. He didn't say anything about Mr. Pierce."

"Always knew Stick had a soft spot for me," Garrett mused. Then he punched Burke in the face.

"You're still following Stick's orders," said Elektra, "even though you think he's dead."

"He didn't want you three harmed," Burke repeated.

"You said you've been watching us," Matt stated.

"From a distance, through Kimagure. I saw enough."

Obviously he hadn't seen everything, since he hadn't brought up Rachel's reaction to her father's computer files. Kimagure could only offer so much, even to a master. "How much is enough?" Elektra bit out.

"What would you like me to say?"

"You knew about Matt," Elektra responded, remembering his comment about Matt's 'backslide' the other night.

"I saw him with the gun, yes."

"And you did nothing."

"I wasn't in a position to do anything. Besides, Murdock had the gun on himself, not any of you. Frankly, I thought it might be better if he did what he wanted to do."

From her position on his left, Elektra grabbed Ethan by the hair, slamming his head against the table.

"Elektra!"

Matt's tone had her backing off, grudgingly. She knew that Ethan and several of Stick's old associates weren't fond of him. He'd killed their men, worked for the enemy. They seemed to forget that that hadn't been the real Matt. They forgot, or didn't care. "You were going to let him shoot himself."

"For the second time, I wasn't in a position to stop it. There were other things that required my attention."

"Such as?" Garrett asked.

"You'd love to know, wouldn't you?"

Elektra was sick of this. Ethan was playing things close to the chest simply because he could. Moving in front of Garrett, Elektra glared at Burke with cold green eyes. "Ethan."

"What? You'll employ your usual techniques if I don't reveal every detail of my activities?"

Striding up to the chair, Elektra kneed him in the jaw.

"I'd speak up," said Garrett, popping his head out from behind her. "She's been cooped up with a busted shoulder watching cartoons all week."

Burke sneered, "She's going to beat me in front of the girl?"

The brunette half-glanced in Abby's direction. "Go to your room."

"I'm not even watching," Abby replied. To demonstrate, she began rooting through the groceries, pulling out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and displaying them to the others. "See? Eating, not watching."

"Good enough for me." Smiling brightly, Garrett stepped forward again, pulled his gun, and brought it down on Ethan's head.

"What about you, Mr. Murdock? The hero of Hell's Kitchen is going to allow them to do this?"

"I'm blind, didn't see anyone do anything," Matt replied easily.

"Wow," Abby marveled, looking at Matt respectfully. "That was kind of a badass thing to say." She held out the cookie bag, as if to reward him. Matt waved away the offer.

Slumping against the ropes binding him, Ethan glared around the room. "I had to return to New York. If either of you were smart," he grumbled, nodding from Matt to Elektra, "you'd thank me for that."

"Do tell, Burke." The sarcasm in Garrett's voice was heavier than usual.

"You too, Pierce. Wilson Fisk had your brother killed, and I've just dealt a major blow to Wilson Fisk."

"Burke, stop talking in riddles, or I'll let Elektra cut your throat out."

"Shouldn't there be a good cop somewhere in this scenario?" Abby muttered, leaning closer to Matt.

"Doesn't look that way," Matt replied. "Unless you want to play that role."

"Nah," said Abby, popping a cookie into her mouth. "I'm good."

Matt turned his focus back to Ethan. "What about Fisk, what did you do?"

* * *

"I want security footage," Fisk commanded, storming down the hospital corridor with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I want to know who took her from that room. Have someone speak to Malcolm." The man who should've been guarding Maya had failed miserably. He'd need to be replaced.

Jogging to keep up, Fisk's assistant spoke as quietly as possible while he tried to catch his breath. "Mr. Cahill is being taken care of as we speak. We obtained the footage ten minutes ago sir, and there's something-"

"What did you find?"

"Right. The escape at Rikers, you'll remember the blonde man, the one who-"

"Helped Murdock escape, yes."

"Right. Unfortunately we haven't been able to find anything more about him but…"

"But he was here."

"Yes sir. Obviously we aren't sure yet what he wants with Miss Lopez but-"

"Then find out, and find him. And when you do, bring him to me."

* * *

"You kidnapped Fisk's little errand girl," Garrett stated. "Dare we ask why?"

"Maya Lopez is a threat."

"Yeah," Abby nodded, "I got that right after she tried kidnapping me."

"There are lots of threats," Elektra said tersely. "Why is she so important to you?"

"And what do you plan to do with her?" Matt added.

"She won't be harmed, if that's what you're implying. What's left of our forces have moved to a new location, where we can rebuild. It's not much, but it'll do for now. She's there, she's safe, and she'll remain that way. I'd like an aspirin now."

"No," Garrett replied. "Aspirin is for people who don't stab other people in the back. She's the exception," Garrett added, nodding towards Elektra. "And she only gets the generic brand."

"What do you know about Maya Lopez?" Matt asked, glaring at Elektra to stop her from hurting Garrett.

"She's a threat," Ethan replied, repeating his previous sentiments. "Fisk's got methods of influencing her, controlling her."

"What does that mean, Ethan?"

"He's lied to her, done things. If she'd been left with Fisk, she'd continue to be a danger to you and Mr. Murdock."

"And you care about that?" Elektra questioned.

"No, for the thousandth time, but Stick did. Also, Fisk might've tried using her to go after the Treasure."

"What do you mean he did things to her?" Abby wondered. "Like brainwash-type things or what?"

Garrett shot her a dangerous look. If Ethan really didn't know about whatever Rachel had gone through, Garrett didn't want him to find out.

"I don't think that's relevant," Ethan replied. "As I said, she won't be harmed. She could be useful to us if we can break Fisk's hold over her."

"For fuck's sake, Ethan!" Garrett exclaimed. "You're making less sense then you did seven years ago. You're okay with following Stick's old instructions, but only when it's convenient for you. You always wanted to be a junior version of the old man, but you're doing things he'd never, _ever_-"

"You've never understood the situation or the stakes, Mr. Pierce. Maybe Master Stick didn't either. Maybe that's why everything he built is in shambles."

"And you're going to rebuild it by stealing a child and kidnapping whoever else you need?" Matt asked bitterly. "Sounds like you might be on the wrong side of this war of yours."

"From a man with your history, that's almost funny."

Shaking her head, Elektra stepped forward again. At first, she'd wanted information, wanted to make him talk. Now she just wanted him to shut up. Ignoring Matt's warning, she hit Ethan. Multiple times, stopping only when he lost consciousness again.

Imagining the bruises Burke would soon be sporting, Garrett raised his eyebrows at Elektra. "You do realize that now we'll have to wait for him to wake up again."

"He wasn't going to give us anything else."

"So says Elektra, mistress of the art of excessive force." Words aside, Garrett looked more impressed then upset.

"I tried holding back, it stopped working."

"Happens," Garrett replied, glancing over at Matt. "Wish I had a nice, angry girlfriend to defend my honor like that. What should we do with him?" the hitman asked, nonchalantly kicking Ethan's chair to the ground. "I vote backyard burial."

"We're not doing anything yet," Elektra refuted. "We wait for him to wake up."

"Thought you said he wasn't giving anything else."

"I don't think he was, about Stick or the Lopez woman."

"All right, so if he didn't know anything else about Jimmy or Rachel, what else is there?"

Elektra didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned her focus to Abby. "Go upstairs, no arguing this time."

"But-"

"No. Arguing. Keep Rachel company."

"But-"

"Go."

"Fine," Abby grumbled. "So am I or am I not supposed to mention the guy we're interrogating in the kitchen?"

"Go," Elektra repeated.

"Fine, jeez." Reluctantly, Abby headed to the living room and up the stairs, making the trek much longer than it needed to be.

"What's the problem, Elektra?" Garrett asked, once he'd heard Rachel's door close.

"You know what the problem is."

"Guess so," the hitman acknowledged. "But if you really thought it was such a problem, why didn't you ask Ethan?"

Elektra said nothing, barely noticing when Matt came to stand next to her.

"I think you want to trust me."

"I think I want an explanation from you."

"Me, not Ethan?"

"Now would be good, Garrett."

Sighing, the hitman ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking ten years older. "What exactly did Burke say?"

"That you had some kind of connection with Bullseye. You, not your brother."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Fucking asshole prick. Thought if he mentioned Bullseye, you'd turn on me right away."

"I didn't," Elektra replied, more than a little surprised about that. "And you're not denying anything."

"He told you nothing, Elektra, because there's nothing to deny. I'm not betraying you to Bullseye."

"You think you'd be standing here if I thought otherwise?"

"Good point, so you do want to trust me."

"I want you to explain. Now."

Sighing again, Garrett shoved Ethan's chair off to one side, gesturing towards the table. "Sit down, let's get this over with."

* * *

It would be over soon, it would be over soon.

That was all Bullseye could think as he puked his guts out and tried to stay conscious. He'd left Janelle Porter's apartment with the best lead he could hope for. Pierce owned a cabin, barely two hours from here. Sounded promising enough.

Bullseye had been all ready to go when the nausea and the chills and the nosebleeds started again. God, how did Pierce _live _like this? Stomach empty, Bullseye leaned against the wall behind him, pinching his nose to block the scent from nearby garbage cans. Unbelievable, he'd gone from being one of the world's most sought-after assassins, to spewing his guts in a garbage can.

Forcing himself to breathe, Bullseye decided that he'd have to wait a little longer. He couldn't face anyone in this condition, never mind Murdock and Elektra. Luckily, he still had the drugs he'd taken from Pierce's old dealer. He'd just have to return to his crappy hotel room, wait for the medicine to clear his system, and possibly pick up a few things before he left.

Spitting to ease the foul taste in his mouth, Bullseye stepped out of the grimy back alley and began to plan.

* * *

"Well," said Elektra, sitting next to Matt at the table.

Across from her, Garrett shifted restlessly, eyes drifting to the man on the floor. Ethan was still tied to the chair, which was resting on its side. Still unconscious, a small bit of drool fell from his half-open mouth.

"Garrett."

Murdock wasn't as demanding as Elektra, but there was a definite edge of impatience in his voice. Steeling himself, Garrett refocused on the couple and tried to relax. It wasn't nervousness that was plaguing him, nor was it the usual feeling of illness, this was more like dread. He'd never had to tell the full story before, never had to admit his own mortality.

"You remember what I told you about Bullseye. S.H.I.E.L.D. needed subjects for their little bring back the dead experiment, couldn't get them legally, so they went the other way."

"I remember," Elektra confirmed, a hint of danger in her voice.

"Yeah, well I didn't tell you everything."

"Who ever does?" the brunette questioned, words still laced with venom. "So?"

"So, the resurrection gig isn't as easy without Kimagure, especially with how trashed some of the subjects were. There were a lot of drugs used, stuff that isn't supposed to mix with the human body."

"I remember that part too, Garrett."

"How about you remember not to interrupt me, Elektra? You're spoiling the dramatic tension." Pausing, Garrett forced himself to keep going. No way through it but to do it and all that jazz. "Anyway, government wasn't resuscitating stiffs just for the fun of it; they wanted new employees, or at least better ones."

"Better?" Matt repeated.

"Better. Faster, stronger, all the usual. After they'd bring these guys back, they'd pump them full of more drugs, more this and that. Some kind of super-soldier formula they were testing along with the not-dead formula."

"Super-soldier formula," Elektra parroted.

"Need I remind you the kind of realm we're operating in here? You nearly died because you made out with a toxic nut job from the Hand's old roster. Incidentally, the making out with another woman thing would be unbearably hot if not for the almost dying because of it thing."

Clearing his throat loudly, the blind man glared in a way that was more Daredevil than Matt Murdock.

"Easy Murdock, just easing the dramatic tension before it becomes overly dramatic."

"Get to the point, Garrett."

"I would E, but all these sidetracks made me forget what it was."

"Formula," Elektra growled dangerously. "Experiments."

"Right," Garrett replied, deciding that stalling was no longer an option. "Better guys for team USA, that was the goal at least. Very sci-fi, very cliché. I think they tried a version of the same program on soldiers during World War II. Rousing failure, as you can imagine."

"And this is what they did with Bullseye?" Matt questioned. " Brought back a sociopath and made him even more of a threat?" The anger was clear in Matt's voice.

"What they tried doing," Garrett corrected. "They brought him back yes, but the other part was still a rousing failure. A whole fuckload of drugs and surgeries and other fun stuff, and all they accomplished was to give him another…another death sentence. All those procedures, all that shit they pumped him with, it screwed him up, and I don't mean mentally this time."

"What exactly do you mean?" Matt asked, tone suggesting he already knew the answer.

"He's sick. Dying. That's got to be why he hasn't made a move on you. I don't think he can anymore. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical files said that he shouldn't be stinking up the Earth much longer. Hopefully they'll be smart enough to _put _him in the earth and leave him there this time."

For long moments, no one said anything. Elektra looked at Matt, her expression unreadable. Matt stared at a point over her head, cloudy eyes still managing to convey so many emotions. Finally, Elektra turned her gaze on Garrett, her lips forming a tight, tight line. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Don't talk to me like that; don't act like I betrayed you."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

A few feet away, Burke groaned in pain, straining weakly against his restraints. Garrett scowled in annoyance. "If you're going to gang up on me with her, then shut the fuck up."

Burke went silent, a tiny rope of drool leaving his half-open mouth and hitting the tile.

"Why would you not tell me this?" Elektra demanded to know. Matt placed a calming hand on her forearm, and she ignored him completely.

"It's good news, E. I know you're incapable of _taking_ good news."

"All right stop," Matt ordered, pressing Elektra's hand into his. "So that's it?" he asked Garrett. "You used to work for the men who brought back Bullseye, and that's all Burke was referring to?"

Ethan moaned again, head lolling to the side.

"Burke!" Garrett snapped. "Stop interrupting or I'll sew your fucking jaw shut."

Ethan went still again.

"I'd throw him in the fucking lake, but then I'd feel bad for the fish," Garrett muttered.

"Garrett," said Matt. Unlike Elektra, his voice was firm without being particularly accusatory. "Anything else?"

He couldn't bullshit his way out, not with Murdock focused in on him. Honestly, he didn't even know why he wanted to anymore, except that saying it out loud would force an end to his long period of denial. "I lied to you," he admitted, staring directly at Elektra. "When I told you that Bullseye was the only one they were successful with."

"Of course you did," the brunette replied. Suddenly, the anger was gone and she sounded more resigned than anything else.

"Remember asking me why Chastity was doing so much to help us? I told you about the op in South America, the one where I got my ass handed to me. Well I seriously got my ass handed to me. She had bad information that we both thought was good, but it wasn't. Chastity called in an extraction team, but by the time they got there…I was thoroughly fucked."

"But they saved you," said Matt, comprehension dawning on his features.

"That they did," Garrett confirmed. "And while they were doing it, they tried making a few improvements. Poisoned my bloodstream with their little concoctions, figured they'd use me as a test subject, same as Bullseye."

"Same as Bullseye," Elektra mimicked.

"Yeah."

"And Bullseye's dying."

"So say his medical files."

He watched as Matt and Elektra figured it out. They'd want details, details on why Bullseye was near-death a mere two years after the procedures, on why he, Garrett, had survived the last _eight_ years relatively unscathed. He'd give the details later, after he'd had a few beers. "Don't tell Rachel. Abby if you want, but not Rachel."

Elektra opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Matt regarded him with something that was probably compassion. Garrett found it irritating.

Ethan's head fell sideways as he muttered something about the motorcycle he'd apparently driven here. Shaking his head, Garrett tipped his chair on two legs so he could reach the one Burke was tied to. With effort, he shoved the chair with one arm, smirking a little when it went far enough to hit the back door. The sound of Ethan's skull hitting the wood helped improve his spirits.

Righting his own chair, Garrett shrugged at Matt and Elektra before going to the fridge for a drink. "Told him to stop interrupting, guess nap time gets extended now."


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **Hello again reader people. So I'm finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel here. After this, there are probably 2, possibly 3 chapters left. Now, when I started this story, I had every intention of this one being it. I was going to wrap things up, more or less, and close out this little pocket universe. Of course, I also thought this would end up being 60,000 words tops, and here we are now. The problem, though not exactly a problem, is Garrett. Garrett and Rachel and that whole mess of confusion. Most of that wasn't in the original plan, and as I've said before, the narrative took on a life of its own. The point is, there's no way I can tie off all the plot threads within this story, not if I want to do it well. So, I almost hate to say this, because I'm sure half my readers have dropped off by now, but…sequel? Sequel? Man, I can't believe I'm talking sequels here. Again with the sequels, the never-ending sequels! Anyway, more on that next time.

Garrett makes with the French a little bit here. He does this because I was listening to a particular song the other day, which some of you probably know and some of you probably don't. Funnily enough, though I was aware of the song, I wasn't aware of the translation until I decided to throw it in here and look up what I was throwing in. I was pleasantly surprised that the lyrics to 'Lady Marmalade' (at least the French portion) were very appropriate for Garrett's character. So, if you're familiar with the tune and you know the French, you'll get a certain joke between Garrett and Elektra. If not, the whole chapter doesn't hinge on that joke, but if you're curious, Google voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and see what comes back.

I have no idea if the Excelsior actually has safe-deposit boxes, I just know that some hotels do and I didn't feel like naming a fake one. If the real place doesn't have them, chalk my factual errors up to creative license.

The final bit with Elektra and the card was inspired by Daredevil Volume Two, #78. Brian Bendis is quite awesome, and sometimes I take his awesome scenes and defile them with my unworthy hands.

As always, read it, enjoy it, and make me happy by reviewing it.

* * *

Abby came downstairs a short while later, drawn by the silence. "So," she began, glancing quickly at Burke's unconscious form, "interrogation over then?"

"Paused," Garrett replied, still at the table with the others. "I'd be fine with feeding him to the bears right now, but Elektra wants to keep up the chat."

"And…that's why he's out cold?"

"Save it," Elektra snapped.

Surprised by the harshness there, Abby took a moment to really look at the adults. All of them wore somber expressions, all of them attempted to mask their somberness. "Is everything-?"

"What's the matter, Abby?" Matt tried to sound firm and ended up sounding tired and depressed.

"We need a third for Go Fish."

Garrett snorted into his beer.

"You said distract her; I'm trying to distract her."

"Fine," the hitman relented, starting to rise from the table. "No cheating this time."

"Yeah," the teen replied carefully, not quite meeting his eyes. "That's…that's not going to work. Rachel's kind of…not happy with you right now."

Halfway between sitting and standing, Garrett froze for a moment, brow crinkling in thought. Then he got it. Dropping back to the chair, he drained half his beer before speaking again. "I wasn't here," he stated.

"It's not your fault," Abby argued, "It's just-"

"Just that I wasn't here. Not when Burke's guys came, not when Fisk's guys killed Jimmy, not when…when Jimmy was screwing with her head. I get it."

"Garrett," Matt tried to cut in.

"I. Get it. She's pissed at me, I'm pissed at me, it's a whole thing where people are pissed at me." He drank the rest of the beer in one long swallow.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then, shrugging in Elektra's direction, Matt broke the silence. "Third for Go Fish."

"You do it."

"Why me?"

"You're better with her."

"Am I?"

"I played with those bean things this morning, you play cards."

"Beanie Babies," Garrett supplied, getting up to retrieve another drink."

"Fine," said Elektra staring down a man who couldn't see. "I played with those, you get to play cards."

"I spent two hours listening to a show about a girl and her talking backpack. Then I spent an hour playing some kind of magical pony game."

"She still does that?" Garrett frowned, "I thought I told her to grow out of that game.

"Okay," said Abby, holding up her hands defensively. "Please stop. I'm going to need therapy already, and this isn't helping."

Snorting again, Garrett uncapped his drink and reclaimed his chair. "You grow up _not_ needing therapy, it means your parents did something wrong. Right, Elektra?"

Shaking his head, Matt left the table, waving for Abby to precede him. "Does it have to be Go Fish?"

"I like Go Fish."

"Great," Matt deadpanned, following the teen upstairs.

Their departure left Elektra alone with Garrett, a situation she'd become much too familiar with over the past days. This time was different though. This time, there was an unconscious man on the floor, Matt was playing children's card games, and Garrett was sick. Dying, Garrett was dying.

"I'm sorry." The apology came after long minutes of heavy quiet.

Distracted from peeling the label off his beer bottle, Garrett set the item down and looked carefully at Elektra. "You are, aren't you?"

The surprise in his voice didn't hurt her like it might have someone else. Elektra herself was surprised by the honesty in her words. He'd never be her favorite person, but Garrett wasn't Fisk or Kirigi or Bullseye. And despite her refusal to be with him right then, Rachel loved him. Rachel, a child with nothing and no one left to her, save her uncle. Her sick uncle. Her _dying_ uncle. Elektra was so sick of everyone dying, even Garrett.

"Kimagure." Elektra began after another long silence.

"Doesn't work in sickness, E. I know that so that means you _have _to know that. By the way, before Burke wakes up and twists this around, I lied to you about something else too." Pausing, Garrett waited for her to whip out the sais. When she simply scowled, managing to appear both angry and resigned, he continued. "Day after you showed up, you asked me about Stick, I told you I ran into him a couple months back."

"But you didn't."

"I _sought him out_ a couple months back, after I realized the pills and the treatments weren't cutting it anymore. Basically ordered him to use his magic powers to save my life."

Despite her resentment of yet another deception, Elektra couldn't help a bit of dry humor. "That must've gone over well."

"Well as you'd expect, I had a limp for two weeks afterward," the hitman replied. "Funny isn't it? That the dying can't be brought back from the dead. Guess those Japanese sorcerers were thinking about population control when they wrote the rules for all this."

"You said there were treatments."

Nodding, Garrett took another gulp from his beer. "Things to keep my heart from beating itself out, clear my bloodstream of the chemicals, things like that. Chastity gave me numbers for lots of doctors with lots of miracle cures. Thing is, none of those cures were really cures, and I built up an immunity to most of them. Can't fight off whatever the hell S.H.I.E.L.D. poisoned me with, but I have no problem handling the other stuff. Yay for the human body."

Elektra had nothing to say to that. "You could've said something."

The words hadn't been accusatory, so Garrett didn't bother getting defensive. "Why would I?" he asked neutrally. "Anyway, could be worse. Some of the drugs still work, and once I get back on them, I should be good for awhile."

"How long is that?"

"Awhile. Medical community's doing new stuff every day, and every time I've gotten bad before, Chastity's gotten some doctor to pull some drug out of his ass that keeps me breathing. I really should stop calling her a whore, shouldn't I?"

"What about Bullseye?"

"Bullseye's different," Garrett answered, features darkening noticeably. "Uncle Sam's guys were stupid enough to bring him back, but they weren't total morons. They knew those drugs were dangerous, they intentionally filed him with too many of them. Eventually they would've tried to fix that, but he busted out before everything was done. He busted out, S.H.I.E.L.D. lost his trail, and then they sat back, waiting for him to kick it again. They're too busy chasing mutants and building electronic battlesuits to waste time on Target Man, so they're waiting for their work to kill him. Basically, they screwed him up worse than they did me, and he hasn't had a team of geniuses coming up with new ways to keep him alive. Remind me to send Chastity a fruit basket, I really should attempt to be nicer."

"You could've told me Bullseye was sick without bringing yourself into it," Elektra stated.

"You really need a reason to stay pissed off, don't you? It's not healthy to have anger as your default emotional setting, you get that right?" Predictably, a glare was her only response. Sighing, Garrett locked eyes with her and straightened his shoulders. "When I told you Bullseye was alive, you tried twisting my hand off."

"You're ambidextrous."

The hitman rolled his eyes. "And once again you miss the point. You told me Abby doesn't think clearly when it comes to him, but neither do you. You're so damn angry at him-"

"I wonder why that is?" Elektra asked bitingly.

"Would you come off it and let me talk? Look, you hate him, great. You want him dead, great. Do you really think you can do that?"

"So now we're back to you underestimating me."

"No, we're back to _you _underestimating _him_."

"I've beaten him before."

"Yeah, so I heard. Then again, there was that other time."

"That was a long time ago."

"It was, but the rematch didn't happen yesterday either."

Elektra shook her head in irritation. "He's sick, right? However good he was before, he's sick enough that he's kept a low profile."

"Exactly!" Garrett exclaimed, snapping his fingers. Off her look of bewilderment, he leaned forward on his chair, being sure to hold her eyes. "You want to know why I didn't tell you about Bullseye's problems? Play back what you just said. He's screwed up, so therefore he won't be a match for you. That's the kind of thinking that'll get you killed, this time without do-overs."

"And what, this was you protecting me?" Elektra questioned. "You have no idea how tired I am of everyone thinking I need protection, let alone the kind that involves lying by omission."

"Everyone lies, E. As far as protection goes, I thought about not even telling you Bullseye was alive. Figured I'd let him die on his own and spare you the grief."

"I didn't need you to spare me anything."

"Because God help anyone who's stupid enough to want to do that. If you're going to keep bitching that I didn't tell you he was dying, fine, I really don't care. What I do care about is you not fucking up again because of how arrogant you are."

"You're one to talk."

"At least I admit it. Hell, the arrogance will probably get me a bullet to the head long before S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work finishes me off."

"Good view to have when you're responsible for a child," Elektra snapped

That stopped him, if only for a moment. "Don't make this about me," Garrett replied brusquely. "When Bullseye escaped that government base, he faked cardiac arrest to get out of his restraints, then he killed three guards with the spork one of them was using for his lunch. This was all after he'd been cut up and worked on and drugged into stupidity for months. Don't assume he's an easy fight, no matter what those medical files say. Way I heard it, you thought he'd be an easy fight before, and then he cut you open."

"That was different," Elektra growled. "I was angry then, emotional."

"So you won't be angry and emotional if you meet up with him again?"

"You don't know anything about it."

"I know I don't want you dying again!"

The words hung heavy in the air. Mentally berating himself, Garrett went for another beer, slamming it down before the fridge had even shut. He'd fucked up, gotten angry and emotional like Elektra, let too much of his feelings bleed out.

A groan from Ethan broke the moment. Refusing to look at Garrett, Elektra got up long enough to haul Ethan's chair from the floor. "I need you to leave."

Empty bottle in hand, Garrett let his eyebrows go skywards. "Because…?"

"I need to talk to Burke."

"I figured that when you wouldn't let me get the ax from the shed. Any particular reason I can't be here for this."

"Any particular reason you want to be?"

"Aside from curiosity? You beating up Ethan is probably the second-biggest turn-on in the history of time."

"Garrett."

"I can't play Go Fish, I can't watch you assault Burke, you're not leaving me a lot of options here, E."

"I need you to leave," Elektra repeated.

Garrett blinked hard. She'd actually sounded like a person that time. She was asking him, really asking him. Or maybe she was still ordering and he was too buzzed to tell the difference, either way. Dropping the bottle in the trash, Garrett gestured vaguely towards the front door. "I'll be around."

Elektra nodded once, but kept her eyes on Burke.

Shrugging, Garrett headed outside to locate his ax. E might want Burke alive now, but that was bound to change as soon as she had whatever information she needed, and Garrett was going to be ready.

* * *

"Can we kill him now?"

Matt glared in the direction of Garrett's voice. The man sounded more eager and excited than Matt had ever heard him. "We're not killing him."

Again, the adults were gathered in the kitchen, and again, Burke was unconscious. At some point during their twenty minute chat, Elektra had blackened both of his eyes. While Matt and Garrett argued in the middle of the room, Elektra stood off to the side, arms crossed defensively. The television in Abby's room was loud enough to be heard downstairs from behind a closed door.

"I see," Garrett deadpanned. "And why aren't we killing him?"

"Because we aren't," Matt replied, jaw clenching.

"Great argument, you must've been a fabulous lawyer."

"I'm not taking part in a murder."

Garrett opened his mouth to respond, biting his tongue at the last minute. He'd almost said that Murdock hadn't had a problem with that before. Almost, but not quite, because he knew it wasn't a solid argument. Brainwashed Murdock wasn't the same as regular Murdock. Regular Murdock was apparently the true-blue straight arrow, and Garrett found that very annoying. "You don't have to take part. Hell, you don't even have to watch."

"We've beaten him, there's no reason to-"

"For now we've beaten him. He might not be a threat to you, but I'm a different story. He was willing to kill me to get Rachel, and you want to what, let him stroll out the door? Look what happened the last time I let the bastard live."

"We need him alive. _I _need him alive."

"For what, your conscience? If that's what it is, do what everyone else does, tell Jiminy to shut the fuck up."

"Your big plan was what? Play it like Burke kidnapped me from Rikers. I can't go back to New York, tell everyone I was kidnapped by some lunatic, then say that he just let me go."

"Why the hell not? He's crazy enough to bust into a prison and take a hostage, he's crazy enough to ditch that hostage later on. You bullshit for a living, Murdock, you'll come up with something. He's dangerous and power hungry and I'm not keeping him around."

"He's stupid," Matt argued. "He's stupid and misguided."

"Which obviously doesn't equal dangerous."

"I'm saying that he's not going for a power-play. He's following Stick's directives-"

"So what, that's supposed to mean something? That's supposed to mean that he doesn't have an agenda?"

"You were the one who said he was always a follower, that he wasn't capable of agendas."

"I didn't think my brother was capable of brainwashing his own child, wrong there. I didn't think Ethan was capable of forming any sort of plan, no matter how shitty that plan was, and then he stabbed me in the back. Not that it matters, but he took the Lopez woman, and I'm pretty sure that wasn't one of Stick's directives."

The police-"

"We're fucking fugitives and you're talking cops? You're not a lawyer anymore Murdock, and you're not a vigilante either, so quit thinking like one. You think if you dump him on the cops, that he'll just admit to taking you from prison, then make up a reason for doing it that'll get you cleared?"

"Yes, because Stick told him to protect me."

"And what happens when he breaks out, or is he just going to stew in jail for you, too?"

"He'll get out, but he won't come for Rachel again, not for a long time, anyway."

"Not for a long time. And why's that?"

"I'll talk to him," Matt replied in a low voice.

Garrett laughed humorlessly. "Talk to him. That'll do it."

"I'll talk to him," the blind man repeated.

A chill ran through the air. It wasn't quite the tone Matt had used after the file had been played, but it was close enough. Elektra, oddly silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. "What are you thinking?"

Cloudy eyes that had gone hard and cold softened just slightly at the sound of her voice. "I'm going to convince him that he's going about this the wrong way."

Elektra tried to think of what the Hand might've taught Matt while he was under their control, tried to reconcile the look on his face with the man she knew.

Garrett, who'd also been taken aback by the declaration, quickly recovered. "Yeah, that's an okay plan too, but I like mine better. Yeah, I think I'm just going to kill him."

"You won't," Matt refuted, stepping in front of Ethan's chair.

"You think? I get that you're guilty over whatever Roshi had you doing last year, and I get that you don't want blood on your hands. Thing is, I really don't care." Whirling, Garrett pinned Elektra under an intense stare. "You know it's better if Burke's gone."

For a long moment, there was silence. Both men scrutinized her, waiting for an answer. Elektra could've killed Garrett for putting her in this position. Because honestly, she knew they'd be better off without Burke. Whatever his motives, he was too foolish, too extreme, and, contrary to earlier assessments, too unpredictable. It would be easier if he weren't around.

It would've been easier for her to kill the FBI agents who came looking for Matt in their apartment. It would've been easier for her to kill all of Fisk's men at Jimmy Pierce's home instead of stabbing them in non-vital areas. It would've been easier for her to kill the men Burke sent for Rachel.

"He doesn't need to be dead; there are other ways of doing things."

Matt smiled, just a little. Garrett looked at her blankly. Finally, the hitman said "You guys can't stomach killing him, but it's fine for Murdock to torture him until-"

"That's _not _what it'll be," Matt objected."

Garrett nodded obligingly. "You can spot liars, Murdock, but you're not a very good one. Why is it that you get final say in this, anyway?"

"Garrett."

"_What_. E? What? Would you be making the same argument if Burke tried taking Abby from you? These rules you live by now, you make them up as you go along, right? The rules have changed, E. Stick's not here and neither is his system and Ethan…who the fuck knows what Ethan's trying for?"

Elektra said nothing. Staring him down was somehow harder than usual.

"Give me a reason, E, because none of his are cutting it," Garrett continued, tossing a glance at Matt.

"Because I'm asking you. You want trust, it goes both ways."

"Don't joke."

"I'm not."

"Right, so it must be the argument that's a joke."

Eyes narrowing, Elektra stepped towards him, stopping just short of invading his personal space. "I kept that kid safe while you were gone. Again. You owe me this."

Garrett took a step back, feeling Murdock scrutinizing his every move. "What about before that? You came to me first, remember? That worth anything to you?"

"Burke kept Rachel alive."

Matt's words caused the other two to pause, breaking the standoff. "What?" Garrett asked.

"After Rikers. He was the one who told us she was in danger."

"Because we were badgering him and you would've known if he lied."

"Regardless. We wouldn't have known to get her otherwise. Whatever his reasons for doing it, he did save Rachel's life."

For almost thirty seconds, there was silence. Garrett's hand kept twitching towards the gun at his waist. Finally, he turned his back to Matt and Elektra, snatched another beer from the fridge, and headed out the back. "Fucking shyster lawyers. They should make a law that all the fucking shyster lawyers go straight to the firing squad."

* * *

"He gone?" Garrett asked, keeping his eyes on the tree he was shooting into.

"He's gone," Elektra confirmed, standing slightly behind him in the woods.

"He leave under his own power? I figure if Murdock had any sort of power of persuasion, Burke shouldn't have been able to walk out of here."

Elektra said nothing, watching the bullets smash into the red painted target. "You're off today," she remarked after the silence got to heavy.

"Damn fingers won't hold still," he replied. "Haven't had any decent treatments since the cops raided my place, and now my fingers won't hold still." Lowering the silenced weapon, Garrett coughed into his hand, cursing when his twitchy fingers came away bloody.

"Garrett?"

"I'm fine. So what did Murdock do? What'd he do to make Burke such a changed man?"

"I don't know," Elektra replied after the slightest hesitation.

"Why don't you know? He not want you to see him torturing Burke into playing nice?"

"That's not-"

"That's exactly what he did. I saw how he looked in that kitchen, E. This whole week, the only time I can remember him looking anything like that is when that file got opened and he…did what he did."

"Tried to shoot himself," the brunette stated tonelessly.

Shutting his eyes tight, Garrett wiped his bloody hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Listen-"

"Don't."

"E-"

"I said don't."

"What's the matter with you?" he asked suddenly. "Murdock and I were having a heated philosophical debate and you barely talked through most of it."

"Philosophy never did much for me."

"You were upset, why were you upset?"

"I was fine."

"You weren't _fine_, you were somewhere else."

"Exactly where I want to be right now," Elektra growled, half-turning back towards the house.

"All right," the hitman grumbled. "You were fine, transmission received." Raising the gun again, Garrett shot another round, this one barely landing within the target range. "Dammit, sight's off."

Eyebrows raised, Elektra walked up beside him, holding her hand out. When he didn't move, she gestured for the gun.

Confused, Garrett held the weapon closer tilting his head sideways. "I know we're in the woods, but no one will buy it if you shoot me and act like it was a hunting accident."

Glaring in irritation, Elektra held out her hand impatiently.

"You going to shoot me?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"You in an impulsive-type mood?"

Shaking her head, Elektra took the handgun from him in one quick move. In another quick move, she brought the weapon upwards, firing three shots in rapid succession. None hit the very center of the target, but each came damn close. Lowering the weapon, Elektra threw Garrett a quick look. "Sight's fine."

Jaw slightly open, Garrett stared at her in amazement. "I thought you didn't do guns?"

"I don't."

"You don't. From where I'm standing, you could've shown Abby the ropes yourself."

"I can use them if I need to, you're the expert."

Garrett blinked. Had E verbally acknowledged that he was better at something than she was? "Who taught you?"

"My father set it up, same as every training program."

"Nice of him," Garrett stated, holding his hand out. "Obviously not your favorite skill-set."

"Most of the men I worked with taught hand-to-hand. Most of them said guns were too easy."

"Really."

"The general consensus was that any idiot could point and pull." Returning the gun, Elektra amended her previous statement. "The sight's fine, it's yours that must be off."

"I get dizzy and fuzzy and discombobulated sometimes. By the way, thanks for not treating me nicer just because of my illness." He waited for a response and got none. E had gone blank again. "So I was supposed to be straight with you about the S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff, huh? You want to be straight with _me_ about something?" Again, he got no response. "Did you side with Murdock because you care if Burke lives, or because you don't want Murdock thinking you're a bad person?"

"Should I bother answering? Your opinion's already formed."

"I asked, so you should bother answering. If you even have an answer."

The brunette sent him a killing scowl. "Screw you."

"When, where, and in what positions?"

Elektra made to leave again.

"You walked right into that and you know it. Relax, kill somebody and borrow their funny bone would you? Seriously, I'm not bad-mouthing your guy so you'll screw me. I may have helped you to begin with on the off-chance you'd screw me, but I knew it was a longshot."

Keeping her back to him, Elektra sighed heavily, the sound a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. "What are you doing, Garrett? Whatever you're trying to get at, do it already."

Gun in hand, the hitman walked up to her, lowering his voice. "I'm saying Burke's a threat and we both know that."

"So does Matt."

Garrett made an unintelligible noise. 'You just hope that whatever Murdock 'talked' to him about had an effect. Murdock doesn't want blood on his hands and maybe you don't either, but Burke's a loose cannon, and any damage he does after this willbe your responsibility."

* * *

He was hiding out in their room again, sitting on the edge of the bed with hunched shoulders and a stony expression. She approached him cautiously, blocking out the TV that still blared in Abby's room. "Matt."

He tried to smile for her, but it came off as more of a grimace. Head bowed slightly, Matt patted the spot next to him and waited for her to sit down. He didn't try to touch her or put his arm around her. "I don't…I don't know anymore E, I really don't."

"Ethan, he's…?"

"He's taken care of," Matt replied, with an undercurrent to his voice that only a deaf man could miss. "Can I tell you something? Roshi had me killing people; you know that, even though I promised myself years ago that I wouldn't kill anymore."

"It wasn't you, that man the Hand gave orders to." She'd said it so many times, and Elektra knew that she'd never say it enough.

"I know. I know that as much as I'm ever going to know it. But I can't…so much of what I did back then is so muddled up." He stopped there, some of the tension bleeding from him as Elektra touched his arm. "When I started to fight , right before I…right before I came after you and Abby…" Matt swallowed audibly. "Roshi or his subordinates would order me to kill, but I wouldn't do it all the time, not after I started rejecting their programming. The Hand would give me these targets, but sometimes I couldn't do the job. I'd find these people, and I'd beat them and I'd do things that just... One thing I'll say about being locked in a dungeon and tortured, you learn, it's educational."

He stopped again. Elektra was still stroking his forearm and she knew he was waiting for her to pull away. She didn't, so he talked some more.

"I'd torture these people, then I'd tell them to get the hell out of town, as soon as they could move again. And Ethan, I had to do that to Ethan."

"Whatever you did was better for him than a bullet from Garrett's twelve gage."

"I don't know. Burke's not…regular methods weren't going to work. The stuff I did to him, E… Even when I was throwing rapists on train tracks, I wasn't…"

Privately, Elektra thought that Burke deserved whatever Matt had given him, times ten. Then she wondered what Matt could've done that hadn't sent Abby or Rachel rushing down to investigate. Then again, Burke could be tough sometimes, it probably took a lot to make him scream. Then Elektra wondered about Matt. She knew why he didn't want her to witness his activities, but at the same time, he had to realize some of the things she'd seen. Things she'd _done_. He had to realize that seeing him hurt Burke wouldn't do much to lower her opinion of him. But she really did know why he'd asked, _begged _her not to be there, to make sure the girls stayed put while he convinced Ethan to stay away.

"I don't know," Matt repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. His blind eyes were locked downward, on the duffel near his feet, the one that housed everything Daredevil. "Garrett's right, the rules have changed. I'm not a lawyer anymore, I'm not Daredevil…"

"You're not a member of the Hand, either, no matter what happened downstairs."

"No, I'm definitely not that. But until recently, I didn't think I'd be the guy who broke out of jail, or the guy who needs a hitman and his girlfriend to solve his problems for him, or the guy who puts a gun to his head."

Elektra pulled her hand back. He'd been waiting all this time, and she'd finally done as expected, and she hated herself for that. She also hated herself for the thoughts in her head, the ones that were always there, but rarely acknowledged. The thoughts about how at least now they were both damaged goods. She'd never mistaken Matt for perfect, but he'd always been more perfect than her. He had issues and he'd made mistakes yes, but he'd never been as screwed up as she was. And sometimes, on those rare occasions when she felt the need to find some sort of silver lining in the hell that was the last year of their lives, Elektra thought that at least it had leveled the playing field. And then she hated herself for those thoughts.

Elektra was drifting and she knew it. She was supposed to be helping him, but she'd never been good at that. Helping Abby after Mark died was comparatively easy. She was grieving, but she wasn't nearly as closed-off about that as Elektra herself had been. With Abby, Elektra could watch for the signs and sit down and hold the teenager until she was spent and there weren't any more tears. Matt was different. Matt was grieving for the man he used to be, and usually he didn't want Elektra sharing in that grief. But she had. Alone, she'd grieved for simpler times, and times that never really existed but could have, and she grieved for the man she lost. Bur Elektra had never been terribly good about getting Matt better. And now he was angry and confused and whatever else, and Elektra couldn't do a thing for it.

Elektra was still drifting and she still knew it. Her shoulder hurt and her head ached and she couldn't keep her thoughts in place. Unconsciously, she dropped her eyes to the bag on the floor. It was slightly open and a hint of red could be seen through the zipper. Her red, not his, the red of her costume. Wasn't too long ago that she would've been wearing that costume while she punished Burke for his betrayal, while she murdered him. Wasn't too long ago that she never would've been shot in that motel room. She would've been on guard and as a last resort, her Kimagure training would've given a heads-up. Kimagure. Hotel. Abby, dead in a hotel parking lot.

Suddenly, Matt was clasping her hand, turning her face towards his. He looked guilty as hell. "Garrett was right about something else, too. In the kitchen, you weren't-"

"You were listening?" the brunette asked sharply, jerking her head away from him.

"Sometimes it's hard for me _not _to listen."

"Work on that."

He sighed, speaking in a voice that was much too quiet. "I know you talked to Burke, I know you asked him about the visions."

Of course she'd asked Burke. Stick wasn't around and Burke was all she had. So she'd asked him why the pattern of her visions might've changed, why she was suddenly seeing the same thing for weeks, rather than quick flashes of things only a few days in the future. She'd asked him this, without telling him that she'd been watching Abby die for weeks. She'd asked and he'd said that she should've been a good student and finished her training so she would know these things. Then, after Elektra broke his nose, he explained why these changes might be happening, offering what he felt was a plausible reason. Then she'd asked him if the glimpses of the future were always accurate, always set to happen exactly as they appeared. She'd asked and he'd answered and then, in a fit of temper, she'd knocked him cold again.

Sliding her hand from his, Elektra stood up, breathing around the lump in her throat. As she stood, she looked at the bag again, at what could be seen of her costume. "Don't."

"Elektra," he pleaded.

"I said don't, Matt."

"E, don't walk away from me."

He wasn't angry, he was still pleading with her. And for a second, she thought about doing as he asked. He was slowly getting better at telling her what he'd been though, she was slowly getting better at not running from him whenever she was hurting and he got too close.

"You heard everything, there's nothing to say." She walked away from him.

* * *

Garrett dreamed that night. First he dreamt of fire and charred flesh and pain and telling Chastity that he wanted to die. Then he'd been in a white room and a guy in scrubs was telling him that it would all be okay now. And Garrett tried to scream no, no it wouldn't be okay because he still hurt. Somehow, he hurt worse than before and he still wanted to die, and if they weren't going to let that happen, they could at least give him a fucking shot of something. Chastity was standing nearby, crying and apologizing and apologizing again. Those things were more memory than dream, but then Burke had shown up. Kind of. The doctor nodded and came at him with a syringe, and then the doctor turned into Burke. Then suddenly Chast was gone and Rachel was in her place and Dr. Burke was sticking him with a needle and kidnapping his brother's kid.

Garrett jerked awake, hearing a faint noise. Still half-asleep, he went for his gun automatically, wondering what the hell was going on. Then he put the gun down because he figured out that the noise was his phone. Swearing to himself, Garrett answered without checking the display. Only a few people had this number, and most of them were asleep down the hall. "Five more minutes," he grumbled, "I don't want to go to school today."

"Hi," Chastity replied, sounding much too cheerful. "You promised to call me back later and you didn't, so now I'm calling you."

"I wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't cleared that up." Rolling over in bed, Garrett squinted at the clock on his nightstand. "What're you up to, Chast?"

"Breakfast, croissants. They're delicious."

"You don't say. I'm not having breakfast yet. You know why that is, Chast?"

"Time difference. It's 3:30 in the morning over there."

"Because there's a time difference and it's 3:30 in the _fucking _morning over here."

"You said you'd call, you didn't."

"So that gives you the right to interrupt my beauty sleep?" he asked, falling back on the pillows and slinging an arm over his face.

"You're not going to catch up on thirty-six years of beauty sleep in one night, babe."

"Not with you around, no." Suddenly, Garrett remembered that dream she'd woken him from, remembered how guilty she'd always felt because originally, she was supposed to be in that house that got blown to bits. But she wasn't and he was and S.H.I.E.L.D saved him so he could die another, slower death. He remembered her guilt, and what she'd done for him since, and his vow to treat her better. Sitting up on an elbow, Garrett spoke quietly into the phone. "Hey baby?"

The endearment was tender as opposed to mocking, and he could tell it freaked her out. "What?"

"Thank you, for all of it. You do more than you should and I take it for granted, but I don't always take it for granted, you know?"

There was a pause while Chastity digested that. Then, "Who the fuck is this?"

Garrett blinked repeatedly. "What?"

"If this is some kind of fucking clone thing, so help me-!"

"Wait…what? Chast, it's me."

"Me who?"

"John, Garrett, whichever it is you like better. Chast-"

"You don't sound like John or Garrett."

"Chast-"

"If this is a fucking clone thing-"

"Jesus Christ, Chastity, it's a crime to give an honest thank you?"

"It is for John. And Garrett. Neither of whom you sound like."

"Oh come on."

"What song was playing the first time we fucked?"

"Gee, Chast, don't make it sound more special than it was."

"Song title."

"The Stones, _Beast of Burden._"

"Wrong."

"What?"

"Wrong song."

"You're lying."

As quickly as it came, the crazed anger was gone and she was casual again. "Yeah, I'm lying. You passed the test though, which I find profoundly shocking."

Lying down again, Garrett considered smothering himself with his pillow. "You are profoundly fucked up." And she was. Not in the Elektra, scarred-for-life-by-childhood-trauma way, but in the pregnant-women-shouldn't-snort-chemicals kind of way.

"That's why I always pictured you as my soul mate. You or that guy from _90210_. The one who played David?"

"I have no idea who you're talking about, and please don't think I care. What's with the clone shit? Another project at S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"Not that I know of. Someone should clone the guy who played David."

Six hours ahead, meaning it was 9:30 in the morning on Chastity's end. "You drinking, Chastity?"

"Am I, or do I want to be? Because they're two very different questions. I see you're still grumpy in the mornings."

"I got to bed two hours ago, and then you pull this crap. 'Grumpy' isn't the word for it."

"Did you mean that before, when you thanked me?"

"Did I mean it before or do I mean it now? Because they're two very different questions."

"I told Nelson about that first time we had sex and now he's all embarrassed. It's funny."

"That's good. Is there a reason you're dishing out sex stories?"

"He's been nervous around me; I thought it'd be a tension-breaker."

"And I guess there isn't much chance of you running out of material."

"I told him about some of the more interesting locations, and you know what he said?"

"Did he say you were a whore with a thing for public fornication?"

"No, he actually asked a question. Wanted to know if there was anyplace I absolutely would not have sex under any circumstances."

"And what did you say?" Garrett questioned, wondering if he could choke himself into unconsciousness.

"On a shark."

Garrett blinked, feeling a little stupid. "A shark?"

"I told Nelson that I absolutely would not have sex on a shark. Ever."

Garrett blinked. Several times. "Watching _Jaws _again, baby?"

"It's Shark Week on the Discovery Channel."

"Of course it is. I'm hanging up now."

"No you're not. Earlier, when you asked me if I'd gone through Jimmy's files, I assumed you were looking for something specific. So then I started looking for something specific."

"How, you said S.H.I.E.L.D. had the original files."

"They do, I have a copy."

"You made a copy of my brother's files without telling me?"

"Shut up. I've seen you spend an hour looking for a sock that was on your foot."

"I was drunk, Chastity."

"Either way, I thought it'd be safer to have an extra copy. So I figured I'd try finding whatever you were trying to find, and I think I found something."

"All this while you were watching Shark Week?"

"Background noise, John. You're brother had a letter here, addressed to you."

Garrett sat up again, wide awake. Throwing off the covers, he grabbed his laptop from the dresser. "You just happened to stumble on this?"

"I figured you'd be going in order, file by file from the beginning. I went backwards."

"Story of your life," Garrett muttered, sitting with the computer on his knees and waiting impatiently for it to boot up.

"Asshole. It wasn't so much a letter, really, but he did leave it for you."

Fucking machine was way too slow. "So?"

"You ever been to the Excelsior in New York?"

"Jimmy got married there; I slept with two of the bridesmaids."

"Thanks for telling me. They have safety deposit boxes. Jimmy had a box there. You're supposed to talk to Lou at the front desk."

"Lou who?"

"How the hell do I know, did I write it?"

"What's the name of the document you're looking at?"

There was a brief pause. "He had it disguised as video footage."

"Fine, what's the name?"

Chastity laughed at him. "Lena's Birth Video."

In the light of the monitor, Garrett's face lost all hint of color. "Thanks, Jim. Leave me something where I'm never, ever going to look for it."

"Yeah well, the good news is, I don't think S.H.I.E.L.D's tech guys would've looked there either, so whatever's in that box, they probably haven't got it."

"Knock on wood," Garrett replied, finding what he was looking for. Chastity had pretty well covered the document's contents. "Hey Chast?"

"Hmmm?"

"You could've told me about this right away instead of burying the lead under all that shark stuff."

"You were being nice; I went into a state of shock and temporarily forgot about it."

"Uh huh."

"So you're going to New York."

"Uh huh."

"Be careful, you're a wanted man."

"I'm always careful."

"Uh huh."

Chastity hung up on him.

* * *

The morning didn't start out well. Elektra, who'd barely slept to begin with, was awoken by Matt hurrying out of their bed and into the hallway Elektra threw back the covers and followed him to the landing. Garrett had tripped halfway down the stairs. He didn't look injured, but his skin was too white and his nose was gushing red. She would've liked to blame his clumsiness on the drinking, but Elektra knew she couldn't do that.

"I got it," he insisted, trying to shrug off the help Matt was offering. "Goddamn house is haunted, grew an extra stair while we were sleeping." He limped down to the first floor, dropping heavily onto the first riser. When he looked up again, Elektra was thrusting wad of tissues at him. He tried to thank her, but opening his mouth brought on the coughing fit to end all coughing fits. He sounded like a guy with lung cancer trying to smoke a cigarette. Then, because falling down the stairs like a fucking geriatric wasn't bad enough, Rachel and Abby came to see the show.

The kid started crying in silence. No matter how mad she was at him for not protecting her properly, she didn't want to see this. Garrett pretended that the nosebleed was just a nosebleed, the cough was just a cough. Abby had had a cold several days earlier; he'd just been unlucky enough to catch it. It was a terrible excuse and everyone knew it, and the kid wasn't near stupid enough to believe him.

Breakfast was hardly an improvement. Abby, unaware of Garrett's medical problems, kept trying to catch Elektra's eye, to read some answer from her guardian's face. Elektra never quite looked at her, which was never a good sign. Matt kept throwing concerned looks in Elektra's direction, an even worse sign. Rachel kept watching Garrett like she was waiting for him to collapse, and the others weren't much better.

"Uncle Garrett?"

"What's up, brat?"

"You're not eating."

"I'm not hungry, kid."

"I say that all the time and you still make me eat."

"That's different."

"If you're sick, you won't get better without eating."

"Rachel-"

"What if you don't eat and you don't get better, then you get really, really sick?"

He _was _really, really sick. He needed some very specialized, very expensive drugs, none of which he could get. He'd checked his accounts and found them empty. Kingpin had cleaned him out, the same way he had with Elektra. Obviously, Garrett told his niece none of this. Instead, he choked down eggs and a pancake, knowing that his breakfast wasn't going to stay in his stomach.

After breakfast, Matt and Elektra sat Abby down privately. Actually, Abby forced both of them aside, demanding to know what the hell was wrong with Rachel's uncle. They told her, or at least Matt did. Elektra still couldn't quite meet her eyes. Abby found that puzzling, but the news of Garrett's condition replaced her confusion with anger. Rachel worshipped him, despite the fragile state of their relationship, and Rachel didn't need to lose someone else

"It's not fair."

"I know it's not," Matt replied.

"He's not that bad of a guy. I mean he is, but he isn't."

Abby wouldn't admit it, and she knew Elektra wouldn't either, but Garrett was okay. He was a killer yes, but not the worst kind. And he was nice, charming in his own way. In a conceited, jerk kind of a way, but still.

Once she'd finished raging over Garrett's situation, Matt told Abby the other half of it. He almost didn't want to, almost wanted to keep it from her, though he couldn't say why. He didn't keep it from her. He told Abby that Bullseye was dying too. He was dying, and he'd be gone long before Garrett. Matt had expected that news to bring a morbid sort of comfort to the teen. He wasn't prepared for Abby's response.

"He doesn't deserve to die like that. He deserves worse than that."

The tone was just as disturbing as the words themselves, and it left Matt feeling sick. As sick as Garrett was, puking and coughing his lungs out of even as they spoke. Matt couldn't see Elektra, but he knew what she was thinking. Abby shouldn't be saying things like that, not the way she was saying them. Whenever Bullseye's name came up nowadays, Abby sounded much too familiar, like Elektra after her father's funeral. Cold and detached.

* * *

"You look happy," Garrett deadpanned, chin resting on his elbows, which were resting on the kitchen table.

"Is there something I should be happy about?" Elektra asked. She wasn't in the kitchen for any particular reason, except that she couldn't keep still. She couldn't look at Abby without thinking about blood and gunshot wounds and what Burke had said, and she couldn't stay still long enough to talk to Matt about it. That's how it was with them. One was always closing down and shutting off, and the other was always trying to bring them back.

"Well, it might amuse you to know that the majority of my stomach lining ended up in the toilet, and I'm not feeling too hot because of that."

"You weren't like this a few days ago."

"Told you, a few days ago, I was on drugs," he replied miserably.

"Is it that bad?"

Eyebrows raised, Garrett checked to make sure Rachel wasn't about to come down, then he pulled the gun from his waistband. "You see this?" he asked, pointing his finger at the weapon. "This is my favorite gun. Now currently," he stood up, walked past her, and went for the fridge, "the only thing keeping me from _eating _my favorite gun is this." He pulled an oversized bottle from one of the shelves, slammed the door, and sat down again. Setting the gun and the bottle next to each other on the table, Garrett reclaimed his seat and resumed his explanation. "This is my favorite gun," he repeated, pointing at the item in question, "this is my favorite bottle of tequila. In the absence of some very awesome drugs, tequila is currently keeping me from eating gun,"

"It's 10:00 in the morning," Elektra pointed out, watching him open the bottle and take a long, long swig.

Showing no reaction to the liquid burning down his throat, Garrett rolled his eyes. "Must I explain again about Mr. Gun and Mrs. Tequila? Anyway, 10:00 here, 4:00 in France. 4:00 is close to 5:00, so I say gitchi gitchi ya ya da da and voulez-vous coucher avec moi."

He'd gone from naming inanimate objects to quoting half-forgotten '70's songs. "Let me guess, that's the only French you know?

"Oui mademoiselle, and that's all the French I'll ever need. So seriously, voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

Glaring, Elektra leaned a hip against the counter. "What do you think, Garrett?"

"I'm dying E, show a little pity."

"You want to die today? Keep asking me that."

"You're an icicle, you know that? You lack any scrap of human compassion."

Elektra didn't respond. She supposed it was good that he was still being a wiseass; it meant he wouldn't keel over any time soon. However, she didn't have the energy for his games. Her shoulder, which she'd never given time to start healing, was absolutely hating her. Then there was Matt, hovering nearby trying to help, but not really helping with anything. Then there was Abby and the visions of her death, and Ethan's explanation for them. No, she couldn't deal with Garrett and his games today.

"Hey," he said quietly, getting her attention because he wasn't joking anymore. "Thanks for yesterday. You did protect Rachel and I do owe you, and that's why I hate asking you what I need to ask you."

Son of a bitch. "What do you want now, Garrett?"

"I have to go to New York."

"New York. With Fisk and the police and that government agency of yours all dying to find us, and you want to go to New York."

"It's not a 'want' thing, E."

And he told her about the hotel and their safety deposit units, and how he had to go because his brother left him _something_, and he needed get it because he just needed to get it.

"Look E, it's just for a little while, I'll be back tonight."

He was asking her to babysit again. To sit on the sidelines, the way she'd sat on the sidelines for a couple of years now. "You're sick, Garrett."

"I've been sick for a long time, E. You understand why I need to go."

"I understand that 'going' is all you've been doing for days."

"Now you sound like Rachel."

"Maybe. She's not going to be okay with you taking off again."

"She'll deal," Garrett replied more harshly than he'd intended. "Kids are adaptable, and this'll be it. After this, I'll be with her 24/7 and I'll…we'll deal with Jimmy and all of his crap together."

He was making excuses and he knew it. He was afraid to deal with his niece, like E must've been when she took Abby in. So yeah, it had been easier to pawn the kid off on the others because he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say to her. But this would be it. He'd pick up whatever Jimmy left him, then he'd stand on his own two feet, and he'd take care of Jimmy's kid, and it would all work out.

But first, he needed something to chase down the tequila. Rising from the chair, Garrett was halfway across the kitchen before he tripped, grabbing the counter to keep himself vertical. Standing on his own two feet might be harder than anticipated.

* * *

In the end, Elektra caved. What else was she going to do, really? She could keep Garrett here if she really wanted to, but she didn't really want to, not enough to knock him out and tie him up like they'd done with Burke. She didn't want to be responsible for _Garrett's _responsibility again, but a part of her wanted him gone. There were too many people in this house, more than Elektra was used to, and she wouldn't mind having one less to deal with.

Then one less had become two, because suddenly Matt was going along on this little road trip. When Rachel discovered her uncle was leaving yet again, right after the bad men had tried getting her yet again, her reaction was predictable. She yelled and cried and pushed Garrett away and it was all very cliché and dramatic.

"You got hurt yesterday! You're sick today! And now you want to leave again?"

"I'm not _leaving_, Rachel, I'm…I'm stepping out for a little while."

"Leaving."

"Look Rachel, this is important okay? You're Daddy, I need to get something he left before he went away."

"Died. Before Daddy died," the blonde corrected tearfully.

"Died then," replied Garrett in a barely audible whisper. "Rach, I don't get it, you know? I don't understand a lot of what's happening with you and...and what was happening with him. And I need…I need to figure that out so I can take care of you."

"What if Daddy left you another tape? What if Daddy wants me to listen to it and get more headaches? Are you going to-"

"Rachel!" Closing his eyes, Garrett knelt to her level before opening them again. "Rachel," he said softly. "No more tapes. Ever. Okay? But I need to go. Just for a bit, you won't even know I'm gone."

"You're sick," was the stubborn response. "You're sick and you got hurt yesterday and you could get hurt again because you're sick."

It went on like that for some time, and then somehow, Matt was going too. Matt would go too, and he'd keep Garrett from getting hurt and he'd make sure he wasn't too sick and hey, they might pick up some chicken soup on the way back, just for good measure.

Elektra wasn't exactly happy about Matt babysitting Garrett while she babysat Rachel, but she could understand why her lover had volunteered. Rachel was hard to resist, even for her. Elektra, the icicle devoid of human compassion. Still, Elektra wasn't exactly happy with the arrangements. On one hand, she didn't want Matt around, because all Matt was doing was worrying about her. On the other hand, she wanted Matt around, because he worried for her and he loved her and that made it easier somehow. Aware of her displeasure, Garrett suggested that Elektra come too, because there was no immediate danger here, and Abby was more than capable of holding down the fort for a few hours.

"It'll be good. You and I can be up front, Murdock can have the whole backseat all to himself. Then we can all sing The Pina Colada Song, and you and I can play the license plate game. Not slug bug though. I'm not playing slug bug with you because you hit way too hard."

Elektra chose to stay behind and watch cartoons with the girls.

* * *

The drive to New York was long. Before, there'd always been a female hanging around somewhere to distract them. Now, they were two men in a car together with opposing philosophies on everything. Everything except Elektra.

The drive was very, very, long.

When they got to the hotel, a guy with 'Lou' on his nametag was working the lobby. He looked and dressed the part of polite employee, but had the manners of an asshole, the kind of guy Jimmy would pal around with.

"You guys together?" Lou asked after Garrett gave his name. "I can book you the honeymoon suite if you want."

Garrett waited until Lou retrieved a small suitcase from Jimmy's box before threatening to kill Lou. He expected Murdock to take issue with that, but the blind man didn't say much. They left, silently agreeing to purge that moment from their memories, then they got back in the car.

They were still in the parking lot, Garrett fumbling with the clasp on his brother's case, when his phone rang. Irritated, Garrett balanced the case on his knees, digging through his pocket until he found his cell. Again, he knew who it was without checking the screen. Only one person he knew had such annoyingly bad timing, and Elektra would dial Murdock's phone long before she called his. "Hey Chast. This is a bad time, but I'm sort of curious anyway. What are you wearing?"

The teasing stopped there. It stopped because Chastity was seriously freaked, and when Chast got serious, it meant serious problems. She told him that Janelle, his latest ex, was found dead in her apartment. Death by fucking toothpicks, sharp little toothpicks that put sharp little holes in her throat. And Janelle, hadn't Garrett taken Janelle to the Connecticut house a few times when she'd had off work and Garrett didn't have anyone to kill that week?

Garrett had the pedal on the ground and a street full of angry New Yorkers yelling about his crazy driving, and he knew they'd be too late, that the others were on their own. Elektra with her busted shoulder, Abby with too much rage and not enough skill, and Rachel, his little niece that he didn't know what to do with, that he loved more than anything in this world.

Garrett knew they'd be too late, they were hours away. He knew they'd be too late and he sure as hell wasn't a religious guy, but he prayed as he sped and weaved and endangered pedestrians. Garrett prayed and prayed hard that he was wrong, that somehow they wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Elektra was alone for the first time in days. At first, she'd spent time with Abby and Rachel, then Abby had pulled her aside and asked if she was mad at her or something. Abby couldn't recall doing anything to cause it, but Elektra kept giving her weird looks without actually looking at her, so she assumed Elektra was pissed about something.

After that, the brunette employed the most timeless of parenting tactics. Without using those exact words, Elektra told the girls to run along and play. She also told Abby to stay near the house, not to go tromping into the woods. Abby rolled her eyes.

Feeling like the '50's housewife she'd never wanted to be, Elektra wandered the house alone, half-liking, half-hating the silence within. In the kitchen, Elektra did a mental recap of recent events. She and Matt were fugitives. She was being inundated with visions of her protégé's violent death. She'd been forced to go to Garrett, _Garrett of all people_, for help. Garrett's niece was the Treasure, and she'd also undergone some form of psychological conditioning. Then there was Matt. Matt, who tried to kill himself, Matt, who somehow ended up torturing Burke into leaving them alone. Or promising to anyway. It wasn't a full summary, it didn't include Garrett dying of who-really-knew-what, or Maya Lopez, the player none of them had the first clue about.

There were lots of things missing from her mental recap, but Elektra made a conscious choice to leave them out. She was already dangerously close to getting into Garrett's favorite bottle of tequila, and she refused to be one of those '50's housewives who broke out the alcohol the minute the kids were out of the house.

At the living room window, Elektra scanned over the front yard. Rachel and Abby weren't by the lake, and they weren't in the backyard either, and she couldn't hear any voices. Abby, smart and strong and capable, and utterly incapable of following simple instructions. Not in the mood to form a one-woman search party, Elektra called the teen's cell phone. She could hear it ringing from upstairs. Sometimes she really felt like hurting that girl.

Elektra's hand was hovering over the knob for the backdoor when the phone she'd just pocked started to buzz. Glancing at the screen, she quickly accepted the call. "Matt?"

"Get out," Matt ordered The Man Without Fear sounded panicked. "Don't ask questions, just take the girls and get out!"

Flinging the door wide, Elektra crossed the backyard, willing Rachel and Abby to come strolling out of the woods right the hell now. He'd told her not to ask questions, but that was a stupid request. "What's happening?"

And then, not because of Kimagure, but because of some other sense she couldn't name, Elektra sensed what would happen next. From somewhere beyond the trees, a playing card came flying at her. Raising her hand, Elektra caught the item just before it would've sliced into her carotid artery. That had already happened once, and the experience hadn't been pleasant. Still holding the phone to her ear, Elektra spared a moment to examine the card between her fingers. Ace of spades. Elektra couldn't remember if that was what he'd used last time.

"Never mind," she said flatly, before Matt could explain. "I figured it out."


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **Hey again reader people. I know this chapter's much shorter than what you've probably come to expect from me, but it's still a decent chunk of writing. Here's the thing, I had to write a whole lot of fighting and a little bit of exposition, both of which I suck at. Because of that, and because I _really _didn't want to edit 20+ pages of material, I decided to give myself a break and post 3 more chapters instead of the 2 that I'd planned.

Next on the never-ending author's note, this chapter's violent. Not terribly violent or terribly explicit, but for me, compared to what I usually do, it's violent. Also, while we're on the subject, let me apologize once again for my inability to write fight scenes.

Lastly. If you usually skip over my ramblings, kudos to you for being intelligent but, and this is important, READ THIS PART. Got your attention? Good. Now I've mentioned before about possible sequel action, so here's the deal on that: It's all on you guys. I have things that I still want to do with these characters, but I've been working on my little fanfic universe for so long that I have no idea if anyone besides me cares. I want to tie certain things up, but I don't want to spend months on a story if no one cares to read it. So, and READ THIS PART as well, if you want a continuation, you have to let me know. The decision on whether or not to do a sequel will directly affect the ending of this fic. I've got 2 scenes in mind, but one of them only works if the story continues in a later installment. So seriously, I'd be totally fine with hearing that this series is getting old and I should just end it here, but you guys need to tell me that. If you're interested enough to want me to continue, you've got to tell me that too. If nobody reviews the next couple chapters and I don't get any feedback on the subject, I'll end the series here and be fine with that. If you care one way or the other, let me know.

Oh, and sorry for yelling at you guys, I promise not to do it again. Enjoy the update and forgive my quick editing job.

* * *

This moment had been at the back of her mind ever since she found out he was alive. In the quiet moments, when Garrett wasn't baiting her and Abby wasn't having mood swings and nobody was being hypnotized by evil audio files, Elektra had thought about what would happen when she saw Bullseye again. All she could think now was that it wasn't supposed to be like this.

For the sake of consistency if nothing else, they should've been on a New York rooftop, her in the long-neglected red outfit, her mind clear and focused and ready to end this. And Matt should've been there. Not because Elektra needed his help, never because of that, but because this was his fight too. Elektra should've been standing next to Daredevil on a rooftop like last time, so they could punish Bullseye together, repay him for all he'd done.

Instead of dark rooftops and smoggy city air, Elektra faced her murderer on a sunny afternoon. He looked even more bizarre than usual in this setting. All that leather clashed with all the scenery. Instead of being focused and prepared, Elektra's gaze kept darting towards the woods Bullseye had stepped out of. Abby and Rachel weren't here or in the house or in the front, so they must be in the woods. Instead of having Matt here with her (and Elektra couldn't deny how much she yearned for his presence just now), Elektra was alone, thirty miles from nowhere. The arm they'd yanked the bullet out of would be a problem. She'd fought with it before yes, but those men were amateurs. The only problem she'd had with them was trying _not _to kill them. Those fights had been easy. In fact, she hadn't had a fight that _wasn't _easy in a very long time. That was going to be a problem too.

All this registered in Elektra's mind as Bullseye sauntered towards her. She'd expected that old, hot anger which surged every time she thought of the man, but it didn't come. All Elektra could feel was a sort of resigned calm. He was here, she was here, and now she'd have to deal with that. Maybe he'd be good and stay dead this time.

"How many times, baby? How many times do I have to kill you before it sticks?"

Funny how he'd said that just as she was pondering the same question about him. "At least once more, I think." The talking wasn't her style, especially in situations like this. Too much time spent with Garrett, the man who never stopped talking.

Bullseye looked surprised by the response. Then the moment passed and he grabbed four shuriken off his belt and threw.

Old reflexes kicked in. Whipping out one of her sais, Elektra used the sword to block the deadly pieces of metal. They fell to the ground, next to the playing card she'd already dropped. Then, trapped in déjà vu and knowing it was a bad, bad idea, she threw her sai at him, knowing she would miss.

What happened next was odd. Elektra missed, but she didn't miss. Bullseye should've been able to, quite literally, throw that back in her face. He didn't. He tried catching the knife, but ended up getting a chunk of his forearm removed. Cool exterior banishing, the assassin let out a snarl of rage and charged.

The move was slow and sloppy and not what she expected from him. Not that Elektra was complaining. Grabbing hold of the other sai she always carried, Elektra tried quite valiantly to put it through his heart. It didn't work. Bullseye blocked the move with a kick, snapping bones in Elektra's wrist. She dropped the second sai and he grabbed it in midair before it could hit the grass. Elektra threw her knee up, sending the weapon out of his hand. He grabbed her leg and pulled, bringing her to the ground. Twisting free of his grasp, Elektra kicked him in the face, wishing she was wearing something with heels. He staggered back long enough for her to get up again.

All of that happened very fast, but to Elektra it seemed slow. The shoulder was slowing her down as she'd known it would, but there was something else. Bullseye was slow as well. By normal standards he was fast, but to her he was slow. She had two kids crowding into her mind and a bullet wound, and Bullseye, according to Garrett, was sick as hell. Maybe they were evenly matched.

Using her good arm, Elektra picked up the sai she'd dropped. Bullseye was still dazed from that kick a millisecond earlier, and Elektra pressed her advantage. She went for the throat this time.

Bullseye recovered, catching the knife between his fingers before it hit his jugular. Shoving forward, he made the hilt smack into Elektra's chin, hard enough to bruise. She fell back a step. Bullseye reclaimed the knife. With a swish of his coat, he was behind her, twisting her arm behind her back and putting the sai to her neck.

"Where are the orphans?" he whispered.

His breath caressed her ear in the most unpleasant of ways. He held the blade over that old scar, the one he'd caused. Despite all that, Elektra sighed in relief. At least she would have, if the blade wasn't there. He was asking about Abby and Rachel. He was asking about them, not bragging about killing them. Two less things to worry about.

"Where's the _fucking _kid?" Bullseye growled, pressing into her skin just hard enough to reopen that old scar.

"They're playing hide and seek," Elektra replied. She said it deadpan, and for a second, Bullseye wasn't sure how serious she was. It wasn't her usual style, but it worked, and Elektra felt an irrational pang of annoyance because she'd have to thank Garrett later.

Bullseye's distraction gave Elektra time to throw her head back so that it connected with his nose. Again, not her usual style, but she wasn't aiming for grace here. He let go of her and dropped the sai for the umpteenth time, but Elektra didn't retrieve it. She didn't have time and she was tired of keeping track of the thing, and she really, really didn't want Bullseye with a blade in his hand. She kicked it away, just as Bullseye came at her again. He reached for something in his coat and Elektra tried to stop him, but he was faster this time. She'd expected any number of small but lethal objects. The hypodermic needle wasn't on that list.

"How about a bargain," he asked, attempting to plow his elbow into her stomach. She sidestepped him and tried for some distance between them. He did a quick flip, still holding the needle, and landed a glancing blow to her chest. "You tell me where the younger brat is, and I won't kill the older one."

Abandoning her plan for breathing room, Elektra went after him. It was stupid and sloppy and necessary. The woods behind the cabin were obviously big enough to conceal her two charges, but sooner or later, one or both of them would come back. She needed Bullseye dead, before he had the chance to take anyone else.

Elektra tried knocking the hypodermic out of his grasp, but he switched hands. She tried punching him and he caught the blow, twisting hard. More bones snapped in her wrist. Grabbing the back of her neck, Bullseye twisted her head sideways. Not enough to break it, but enough to expose it.

Elektra felt a sharp prick, then she felt dizzy, then she was falling. Bullseye caught her, laying her on the ground in a way that was almost tender. She wanted to cut off his air supply, but there was no way to do it. In fact, there was no way to do anything.

"Easy," he said. "Easy. Whatever you're thinking, you're not going to do it. I just paralyzed you from the neck down. You might still be able to talk though, if you put your mind to it. Let's see."

He rose from his kneeling position, booted foot smashing into her stomach. He followed that up with a kick to her chest.

Air gone from her lungs, Elektra coughed hard, the action bringing new waves of agony. He'd broken some ribs. She would've brought her arm up to cover them, but her arm was locked and unresponsive, as was the rest of her body.

"Great," her attacker praised. "You can talk, you can scream."

God dammit to hell. If she were lucky, Abby was aware of what was happening. Perhaps she'd had a vision. The teen was still pretty bad about controlling Kimagure, but when she saw things, she tended to see them at good times. If Elektra were lucky, Abby had retreated deeper into the woods with Garrett's niece, and she'd stay there until the cavalry showed up.

Elektra had never been particularly lucky.

Lazily, Bullseye kicked her leg to the side. "Well, get to it then."

"Fuck you."

Shaking his head, Bullseye circled around Elektra, kicking her again so she was on her side in the grass. "Don't," he admonished. "You're better than that, aren't you? Don't sound like that brat's father, he wasn't very creative with the lines either."

Rachel's father. Garrett's brother. "What were you doing? What do you want her for?" The answers didn't matter, but Elektra needed to buy time. How long before the drug wore off?

"Uh uh," he replied. "It wouldn't be polite for me to hog the conversation." Smirking, he pressed his foot against the ribs he'd just broken.

The pain was horrible. Elektra was very much used to pain, but the pain was still horrible. She bit her cheek until it bled, but she didn't cry out.

"Nothing to say? No more clever remarks?" He left her sight for a moment. She heard the click of a door opening, then he was back, dragging her across the yard. "Fresh air's making me nauseous, he grunted. "We'll wait for the brats inside."

He dragged her through the house and up the stairs, chuckling as her skull hit the risers. The laughter was gone soon enough though. He was breathing hard by the time they reached the top, in spite of how little Elektra weighed.

He pulled her into the gym, seemingly at random. Panting Bullseye propped her against the wall, kneeling to straighten out her limbs. He used that opportunity to run his hand along her inner thigh. Elektra wanted to cut him open, but she still couldn't move. She wanted to spit in his face, but the act of breathing was taking up all her attention.

Once he got Elektra situated, Bullseye surveyed the room, with the exercise equipment and the broken window from when Abby tossed a billy club through it. Wiping sweat from his face, the assassin picked up a medicine ball."On second thought, it's a little stuffy in here." With effort, he carried the ball to the window and hurled it through the glass.

When he turned around again, Elektra studied his hated face, mostly because she was incapable of doing anything else. She hadn't had time to notice before how awful he looked. He was disturbingly pale and thinner than she remembered. Along with that damn target, veins were visible on his forehead. On closer inspection, Elektra realized that his eyes were bloodshot and his hands were shaking. Bullseye looked like Garrett had looked since he ran out of drugs, only worse.

"What? I got something in my teeth?"

Elektra clenched her own teeth and bit at her tongue.

"I asked you a question," said Bullseye. He grabbed a free-weight light enough to carry one handed, then he dropped it on her kneecap.

Elektra cried out in pain, biting her lip to silence it. Knee, ribs shoulder, all screaming at her. God _fucking _dammit.

"You're tough," Bullseye commented, still looming over her. "What about the Miller brat, she tough? I know she's not a coward, not if she came with you last time."

Two years ago. Abby was there when they fought Bullseye. It'd been stupid letting her be there. It had been stupid to let both Garrett _and _Matt run off to the city.

"She's not a coward," Bullseye continued, "and she probably doesn't like me very much."

He sounded like he expected a response, and if he was talking, it might stop him from hitting. "You murdered her father; I think it's a safe bet."

"Probably. So how stupid is she? Stupid as you were way back when? Nah, probably not. Who but you would be dumb enough to _stab _the guy trying to keep you alive?"

Elektra said nothing. It hurt to talk, and even if that weren't the case, she had nothing to say.

"Not as stupid as you then. But she loves you, right? Even though you couldn't keep her old man alive, she'd be upset if something happened to you."

"It won't work," Elektra bit out. She'd try breathing through the pain if breathing didn't _cause _the pain.

"You don't think so?" he asked, bending forward.

When he'd dragged her in, he'd pulled on her good arm, and Elektra had been surprised by that. Propped up near the open window, she suddenly understood. Already queasy, her stomach lurched in anticipation of what would come next.

"You don't think," Bullseye continued, placing his hands on her wounded shoulder, "that she'd come back from her little game if you called her in?"

She'd told Abby. Weeks ago, she'd told her not to do that. After those fucking visions started, the ones where Abby died trying to save her in that fucking parking lot.

_"If something happens to me or Matt, if you're in a bad situation and either of us gets hurt, you don't stop. You get out of there. You run and you keep running and you don't think about looking back. That's the number one rule and I need you to follow it."_

She'd told Abby how important it was, made her promise. Abby knew it was important, she'd listen.

_"Don't. Just listen to me this one time."_

Yeah, because Abby was so good at that.

"Let's find out about that," said the Irishman. Putting his hands where they needed to be, Bullseye dislocated Elektra's shoulder.

The pain would've been terrible even without the broken ribs and the busted knee. Even if that shoulder wasn't already healing from a near-fatal gunshot wound, the pain would've been terrible

Elektra screamed. She hated herself for it, but could do nothing about it. She screamed and it bounced out of the small workout room and through the window and clear across the lake and into the deepest part of the trees out back. She screamed like Bullseye wanted her to, then it all became too much and her world grew dark.

* * *

When she came to, he was facing away from her, sticking himself with another needle. Glancing over his shoulder, Bullseye grinned wickedly, tossing the needle away. Somehow, he managed to look ill and unsteady and menacing all at once.

'Thought you'd be out longer," Bullseye commented. "Sorry about that," he added, gesturing towards the shoulder.

Elektra hissed in irritation. Her arm hung at an awkward angle and it hurt. Dammit did it hurt. "Thanks, that helps a lot."

Bullseye chuckled, then the chuckle turned into a cough. It didn't end either. He kept coughing until he was spitting blood on the floor. Wiping his mouth on his coat, the hitman left the gym, disappearing down the hallway.

While he was gone, Elektra tried to think around the pain that was clouding everything. That paralyzing agent showed no signs of wearing off. Not good. Even if she could've moved, it would've been slow and awkward and she didn't have a weapon. Also not good. But Abby wasn't here. However long she'd passed out for, Abby hadn't come. That was good, and she clung to that as Bullseye reentered the room.

The picture he presented was odd, and not just because Elektra's vision was swimming in and out of focus. Bullseye returned holding a box of Kleenex in one hand and one of Matt's clubs in the other. Dropping the stick, he ripped out several of the tissues and wiped them against his nose. They came away bloody and he discarded them.

"Do you know what you did to me, you and Murdock?" There was no hint of that psychotic sense of humor, not anymore. He set the box down next to the used hypodermic and glared at her from where he stood. "Murdock tried taking my hands away."

He stepped closer and Elektra realized something else that she hadn't before. Bullseye was insane. He'd always been a sociopath, but now he was well and truly insane. Those bloodshot eyes kept darting this way and that, and the glint of madness was clear in them. The stress of being brought back from the dead and then being sick, and then taking whatever second-rate drugs he was taking to keep himself alive was obviously having an effect.

"Do you know how long I had to work to get my hands back after Murdock shot them out? And then after all that, you have to go and kill me."

"Sorry about that," Elektra drawled. The talking hurt and it wasn't her thing, but talking meant she was still conscious.

"You know what it's like for me now?" He kept rambling as if she hadn't spoken. "I have to be drugged out of my mind just to be able to walk straight. You know how hard it is to aim like that?"

He pointed towards her shoulder as he said that last part and something clicked in Elektra's pain-clouded brain. "It was you, at the motel in Jersey."

"Give the lady a prize. I meant to blow your head off, but you killed me and wrecked my fucking hands." He held them up as if to demonstrate. They were still twitching. "Too bad I only brought one bullet. Didn't plan on missing though. Then the drugs stopped working and I couldn't think I needed to get out of there, and I lost track of you for awhile."

Elektra hid her reaction to that. He was talking to himself more than her, which was good because whatever he'd injected her with, the dose hadn't been strong enough. Her body was slowly coming back under her control. Time, if she could get just a little more time…

"Guns are too boring, you probably know that. Would've used something better if…"

"If what?" Elektra mocked, taking the risk that he'd go off on her again. "You poisoned Abby, you couldn't get that right, you shot me, and you couldn't get that right either. Even though guns are too easy."

"You stupid hypocritical bitch. You think I've lost my edge, what about you? You're a joke. You went from being a legend to being a housewife. Murdock like you that way?"

She could almost move her leg, the one hadn't dropped a weight on. "You were following us?"

"I was following Pierce. His brother was hiding with the kid and I needed the kid, and I thought they might come there. Then I check things out and you show up. Small world. Didn't want you getting Murdock out of the joint, so I called the cops and Pierce blamed it on that moron contact of his."

Marty, the man Garrett killed back at the Plaza. "You're with the Hand again?" Elektra asked, thinking of how Bullseye had kept track of Rachel's father, how he'd been around to make her listen to all those tapes.

"To hell with them. They were supposed to fix this," he replied. His nose was bleeding again and he wiped his coat over it. "They were supposed to fix me, just like they told Jimmy Pierce. Go along with us and we won't kill you and take your kid, and we'll fix your brother. Then Jimmy made off with the kid and they kicked me to the curb. But everybody still wants the brat, Fisk included.

Fisk, Bullseye and Fisk. The dream team together again. Elektra could almost move his good arm. Almost, but not quite.

"You have any idea what it's like? Living like this? No wonder Pierce's brother drinks himself to death."

The hitman's entire body was shaking. There was no color in his face. He bent down long enough to pick up the club, slapping it lightly against his free hand. "You know, I'm glad I missed in Jersey. Thought it'd be good to have the brat walk in on your dead body, since she didn't get to see her old man's. But this is better," he stated, examining the red billy club. "Poetic."

Before she knew what was happening, before the drug had time to leave her system, Bullseye was hitting her. Anywhere and everywhere, bringing the club down again and again and again. Then, out of nowhere, he backed off. He took the weapon that was stained with her blood and he backed off, breathing hard.

"You did this to me," he wheezed. "You and Murdock." Bullseye straightened, cracked his knuckles, and cleared his throat. Suddenly he was grinning again. "I hear the Devil went off the rails last year. What's he going to do when I beat you to death with his little toy here?"

Elektra couldn't reply. Everything hurt, and it took everything in her not to pass out again. If she lived, she'd be bruised as all hell tomorrow. If she lived. If she could keep her eyes open.

"Drop it."

God _fucking _dammit. No, no, no, no, no, no! She was hallucinating. She was hurting and worried and hallucinating.

Except she wasn't. Blinking hard, Elektra saw Abby standing in the doorway, holding one of Garrett's guns.

"About time," Bullseye muttered, turning his attention from Elektra to Abby.

Abby leveled the gun at the target on his forehead. She looked and sounded nothing like the kid Elektra was used to.

"Drop it," Abby repeated coldly, revolver steady in her hand. "Touch her again and I'll kill you."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: **Okay people, we're finally here. If you guys only knew how long this chapter's been crawling around in my head, or how many versions I went through before posting this… As usual, a giant thank you to everyone who reviewed last time. I still don't know whether I'm happy or sad about this, but one more chapter to go. Obviously, not everything will be neatly tied up (Maya, Ethan, etc.), but the next chapter will be the last. After that…well, we'll talk about after that _after_ I truly acknowledge that this thing that's been part of my life for over a year is finally over.

Some of the Bullseye stuff at the beginning was inspired by/loosely based on #5 of Daredevil Volume Two, written by Kevin Smith.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, read it, enjoy it, and whether you enjoyed it or not, review it.

* * *

Elektra's whole screwed up life seemed to come down to a sense of déjà vu. Bullseye killed her, now he was ready to do it again. Then she'd met Abby and gone to her old estate and it had been the same but different. Kirigi had been ready to kill her and Abby showed up just like this. Except last time, Abby didn't have a pistol in her hand.

"Glad you finally decided to join the party," Bullseye stated, turning his back completely on Elektra so he could address Abby.

"Put it down," Abby replied, nodding towards the bloody club in his hand. "You hurt her again, I'll kill you."

The hitman raised both hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Relax, I heard you the first time." He lowered his hands, holding the club at his side. He didn't drop it.

"Put it down," the girl repeated. "I'm not kidding."

"Sure you are," Bullseye argued. His nose was bleeding more heavily now and he was twitching all over the place, but he kept his voice conversational. "If you were smart enough to shoot me, you would've done it already." He tossed a glance back at Elektra. "Aint that right, baby? You were already a murderer at heart, weren't you? Me offing your old man just gave you an excuse."

"Self defense doesn't count as murder," the teen replied. "Move away from her."

"Aren't you the junior lawyer. Too much time with Murdock, right?."

Elektra was having trouble focusing. If it were just a few broken ribs or just a possibly shattered kneecap or just a fractured wrist, she could've handled that. She could've handled all of those. It was the shoulder that had almost caused her death, the wounded shoulder Bullseye had ripped out of its socket that was making things difficult. If this was how Matt felt when she stabbed him all those years ago, she owed him another thousand apologies. The pain was making it hard to focus, but she tried anyway, tried so damn hard.

Last time it'd been Kirigi who had her in this position. He'd thought he'd beaten her and Elektra proved him wrong and she saved Abby. And though she was having trouble focusing, Elektra knew enough to realize that she had to do that again. The paralyzing agent was slowly wearing off. Elektra could move her good arm a few inches. Bullseye had dropped a barbell on her knee, then he'd let it roll off to the side. It was resting near her left leg. If Elektra could get to it…

"So where's Rachel? I haven't seen her in awhile and I'd like to say hi."

"You're not going near her."

"I'm not huh?" Bullseye took several steps forward. His skin was white as a sheet, making the blood running from his nostrils even more disturbing. "You going to stop me then?"

Fuck, her muscles were still next to useless. "Bullseye!" Elektra called, waiting for him to meet her eyes. "Don't."

"Don't what?" he queried innocently. "We're just talking. I'm just talking to her about Rachel. The brat and I used to spend a lot of time together. She was almost like my niece."

"Put down the club and get away from her!" Abby yelled.

"Relax, take it easy," the assassin replied. He loosened his grip on the stick, but didn't let go. Then he took another step towards Abby and the doorway.

"Bullseye!" Elektra cried, trying not to sound as weak as she felt. "Get away from her."

Smirking, he fell back a step. "We playing Red Light, Green Light?"

"I'll tell you where the girl is," Elektra declared. "I'll give her to you."

The assassin considered. "See, that only works if you know where she is, and I don't think you do anymore. And assuming I'm wrong, I don't think you're cold enough for it."

"She's not my kid," Elektra replied.

"Neither is she," he pointed out, jerking his thumb at the teenager.

"No one's giving anyone anything," Abby broke in, still keeping the gun steady. "You're not touching-"

"Shut up, Abby," the older woman snapped, trying to keep Bullseye's attention on her. "You walk out with Rachel, you stay away from Abby."

He considered that as well. "You know what I always hated about your death, besides the fact that it didn't take? It would've been so much better if you'd begged. I know its cliché, something Fisk would be into, but honestly, from one professional to another. You've got to admit it's so much better when they beg you not to do it."

She could move the arm a little more now. If she could move the arm, she could get that weight he'd smashed her knee with and put it through his skull. Not yet though, her muscles were still too unresponsive. And for her to get the barbell, Bullseye's attention had to be somewhere else. The only other place for it was focused on Abby. The man was insane; he'd love to kill Abby in front of her. His attention couldn't be allowed to settle on Abby.

"Come on," Bullseye urged, almost seductively. "Beg. Beg for me."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please let her go." A pause. "I'm begging you to let her go. Please. Don't hurt her. Let her go."

The hitman spread his arms wide, looking vaguely impressed. "Wow, that was good, really good. Was it good for you?" He advanced on Elektra

"Stay the _fuck _away from her!" Abby yelled.

"Mouth on her eh? You might want to do something about that," he said to Elektra.

"Abby, shut up. We had a deal."

"No shit," Bullseye agreed, throwing the club to the ground and kicking it out of reach. Then he turned back to Abby, trembling palms outstretched. He kept talking to Elektra without looking at her. "This might go a little smoother if she followed my example."

Finally, her body was starting to work. While Bullseye locked eyes with Abby, Elektra inched her hand forward, taking hold of the free weight. The muscles were starting to work, but they weren't working fast enough. If Bullseye saw what she was doing, he'd kill her, then Abby, then he'd find Rachel. But if she could get just a little more time, a little more strength…

"Abby," Elektra ordered. "Put the gun down."

Abby didn't.

"Rebellious too? Bad combination," the assassin remarked, still focused on Abby's gun hand.

Abby was at the doorway, could clearly see what Elektra was doing. "Abby," she repeated. "Put it down."

"Why?"

"You hear this? She doesn't trust me. All the history between you and me and me and her and she doesn't trust me."

"Abby!"

"Come on kid, I dropped mine," he indicated the abandoned club, "it's just good manners."

The weight was in her hand. If she could muster strength enough to throw it, he'd go down and they could take it from there. Problem was, holding on to the thing was sapping all her energy.

Abby saw this in her peripheral vision, never taking her eyes off Bullseye. He was inching towards her again and Elektra couldn't grasp the weight properly. Abby had already called Matt and Garrett, who'd already known about Bullseye. No doubt they were breaking every traffic law in the books to get here in time. It wouldn't happen. They wouldn't be here, and neither would Stick and his army of good guy ninjas.

"Come on, kid. I don't give a fuck about you anymore, you're old news. All I want is the newer model." He stepped closer.

Elektra wanted to scream, order him to back off. She couldn't. If he looked back at her, he'd see the object she in her hand.

"You want to hear something funny?" Bullseye asked. He was still shaking and bleeding and there was a wound where Elektra's sai had sliced through his arm. He grinned and took another step forward. "That whole thing, you trying to protect her." He pointed to Elektra without breaking eye contact. "That's exactly what your dad did."

Impossibly, Abby tensed up further and held the gun tighter.

"Before I opened up his throat," Bullseye continued, blood dripping on his coat as he took another baby step. "It was supposed to be you, obviously, but you weren't there. But he knew what I wanted and he fought me for it. Whole thing was pretty pathetic actually."

Her ears were ringing and her vision was fuzzy, but Elektra saw something in Abby that she'd never seen before. She tried and failed to get a decent grip on the dumbbell.

"He fought and he threatened, said he'd kill me if I touched you. Why does that sound familiar?"

"Shut up," Abby growled.

"He acted like he was ready to kill for you, then he figured out how that wasn't going to work. Then he begged for his life. Pathetic, like I said." Another step forward.

"You _fucking _freak," Abby hissed. "You're such a liar."

"Yeah well, been awhile, hard to remember every detail of every kill. Maybe it was your life he begged for."

He walked as he talked. He was practically at the door. Elektra realized with horror that she wouldn't be able to do it. The weight was too heavy and her muscles were locked up. She couldn't tackle him, not with the locked muscles and the knee and the shoulder and the ribs.

"Your dad would've killed me if he wasn't so useless. You, we've been here since the beginning of time and you still haven't fired. Elektra, she had it in her from the start. You, what do you have?"

She'd hated this man for years. He'd killed her father and he'd killed Elektra and he had no problems handing an innocent kid to the highest bidder. In spite of that, Abby hadn't realized just how much she hated him until just this moment. He was basically on top of her. Elektra was bruised and bloody, worse than Abby had ever seen. Elektra was trying to catch her eye, trying to communicate something. Abby didn't look at her.

"What do you have?" Bullseye repeated. "It's not your dad. Sure as hell isn't guts enough to kill me."

There wasn't going to be a last minute save. Bullseye didn't deserve to live, even Matt had admitted it.

Elektra couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Despite Abby's seemingly cavalier attitude towards her mentor's old job, despite all her skills, despite all the talk of revenge, deep down, Elektra knew that was all it was, talk. She and Abby had many things in common, but the rage that fueled her had never been present in Abby, not really. But with that gun trained on Bullseye's forehead and that look in her eye, Abby didn't look like Abby anymore. And damn all this pain, whatever the hell Bullseye injected her with. It was so hard to stay focused.

Bullseye was right in front of Abby and he was grinning evilly. Bleeding and shaking and grinning. Then his eyes widened, he looked at the teen, and he tried to back away.

Abby wouldn't kill him, Elektra knew that. But she thought she'd known Matt, and then the Hand got hold of him. She thought she'd known Stick, then she found out he'd been hiding Matt from her. She'd told Abby Garrett wasn't a liar, then found out that he, like everyone else, lied a great deal. She thought she'd understood Burke well enough, then Burke broke Matt out of prison and tried murdering Garrett. She thought Bullseye was right, that Abby didn't have it in her, but Abby had been so angry lately, more so even than when Mark first died. And that way Abby was staring at her father's killer… Elektra tried to move, tried to speak. She could do neither.

"No…" Bullseye muttered. He wasn't smiling anymore. Just bleeding all over the place. Bleeding and shaking worse than ever. His breath was hitching again.

Abby's finger twitched against the trigger.

* * *

There was no last minute save. Matt and Garrett got there, but not until well after everything was done. By the time they arrived, there was nothing left to do but sweep up the pieces.

"Jesus Christ," Garrett muttered. Elektra was on a chair in front of him while he worked on the ruin of her right shoulder."What'd that bastard do to you?"

It wasn't a real question; Garrett was talking mostly to himself. Head bowed, Elektra rested her elbow on the table and avoided his eyes. "Compared to the first time I met him? Not much."

Her voice was flat and hollow and it worried him as he tried his best to stitch up the damage. The med kit next to him was enormous, and he'd used up half its contents in the first half an hour. "You set this yourself?" Garrett asked. She'd given them a play-by-play, so he knew Bullseye had ripped out the shoulder he'd already shot open.

"Yeah, I set it myself."

"Jesus Christ, E…"

"Did you want me to have Rachel do it?"

"Abby was there."

Raising her eyes, Elektra gave him the coldest look she'd given him in a long time. "I think Abby had enough to do today."

Garrett looked away. "Did you pass out?"

"Not for long."

Wincing as he bandaged her shoulder, Garrett imagined the hell of popping the joint back in place. How she'd managed that with a broken wrist, he had no idea. "God."

His sympathy irritated her. "Did you want me to make Rachel do it?" she repeated.

"I could've helped," said a small, quiet voice. "I asked if I could help."

Rachel was on the couch. She was supposed to be watching TV, but was watching them instead. She'd refused to let Garrett out of her sight since he got back, and Garrett hadn't argued. She'd spent enough time hiding outside today, and upstairs wouldn't work either.

Sighing, Elektra smiled wearily as Rachel joined them at the table, showing no reaction to the mess of blood and bruises . "I know you did," Elektra replied. "It's okay."

Not much of a speech, but Rachel seemed calmed by it. The gentle reassurance in Elektra's voice threw Garrett off, but he was grateful for it. As usual, he was at a loss for what to say, and Rachel kept staring at him like he was supposed to say something. "Rach?"

"Are you going to be all right?" the girl asked. Her uncle was still shocked over what he'd come home to, so Rachel switched her focus to his friend.

"Yes," Matt answered before Elektra could speak. He hurried down the stairs, positioning himself on Elektra's other side. "She's going to be just fine."

"What about Abby?"

No one spoke. Garrett mentally slapped himself and summoned the fake grin he'd perfected for Rachel. "Her too, kid. The bad guy…he didn't hurt her, remember?"

"Yeah he did," the girl argued quietly. "You can tell that he did."

Garrett shut his eyes tight. "Go watch your movie, okay Rach? Can you please do that for me?"

Rachel nodded, glancing quickly at all of them, her gaze lingering on Garrett. She backed away slightly, but didn't leave the kitchen.

"I'm right here," Garrett promised. "I'm here, okay kiddo?"

"Okay," she agreed, moving back to the couch and the TV.

"I took care of things upstairs," Matt reported softly.

"Fucking mess," Garrett muttered, finishing the job on Elektra's shoulder. Amazingly, she'd agreed to let him put it in a sling, without so much as an argument.

Elektra almost scoffed at the simple but apt assessment. Almost. Fucking mess was right. Matt was standing next to her and she almost looked at him. Almost.

"I did what I could," Garrett stated brusquely, nodding towards her shoulder as he went to wash his hands. "I don't think it's infected, which makes you the luckiest person in the universe, all things considered."

All things considered, Elektra didn't feel especially lucky. She knew Garrett was right, of course she knew that, but she didn't feel it.

"Knee's a mess, but it could be messier. I think there's a crutch somewhere you can use."

"I don't need-"

"You need it." He spoke like he was addressing Elektra, but he was looking in Matt's direction. "The ribs and the wrist won't feel good, but they'll take care of themselves. You're going to need rehab on the knee."

"I know the drill," Elektra replied. She'd been hurt before. It hadn't happened a lot, but it _had _happened. She was used to doing her own physical therapy.

"Shoulder too," Garrett added. He stood near the sink, arms crossed. He acted like he was speaking to Elektra, but that wasn't the case. She wasn't really hearing him, and even when she did hear, she tended not to listen.

"I'll get the exercise," Elektra promised flatly.

"I don't doubt," Garrett replied just as flatly. "But before that, you've got to rest, let them heal."

"Fine."

"Fine then. Let them heal, or there'll be permanent damage and you won't get full use back."

This time it was Elektra who looked away from Garrett. "Okay."

He studied her for a long moment before nodding, busying himself with packing away the first aid kit.

Elektra gazed at Matt for half a second. The strength of his worry, for her and for Abby, was too much. She spoke to Garrett, because for now, Garrett was easier. Garrett didn't make her want to fall apart. "S.H.I.E.L.D. put you through medical school?"

"The most basic form," Garrett replied. "And I knew a paramedic. Played a lot of Operation too, when I was younger." He was joking, but he didn't seem to realize it.

"You just happen to have a spare crutch lying around?"

"Right next to the spare nurse's costume," he said absently, still working on clearing the table.

Elektra nodded in acceptance. Nodding made her headache that much worse. Dropping her head forward, she felt a gentle touch on her neck. Matt, somehow knowing the few spots on her body he could touch without hurting. Blinking back tears, Elektra fought the urge to turn in her chair and sob. Then she felt Matt tense beside her, felt his hand leave her skin, and all her focus went to the front door.

Abby stepped inside a moment later, face unreadable. Rachel tried catching her eye as the door closed, but Abby was only worried about Elektra. Giving her mentor a quick once over, she moved briskly into the kitchen without actually getting near anyone else. She blinked several times before speaking to Garrett. "Is she okay?"

The hard edge to Abby's voice was difficult to take. "I'm fine," Elektra replied, as soothingly as possible.

"She's fine," Garrett confirmed. "She will be anyway, with some time."

Elektra glared at him for that last part, but Abby didn't seem to notice. "You sure?" she asked tightly.

"Scout's honor," Garrett replied.

Abby stopped looking at him then, fidgeting as her eyes moved this way and that. Garrett studied her for a long, long moment before a scowl from Elektra stopped him. Muttering something about putting things away, he picked up the med kit and headed for the stairs.

Rachel shot up immediately, intending to follow him.

"No!" Garrett snapped. It was too harsh and things were too tense and he tried softening his features. Still, he wanted to know for sure that Murdock cleaned up properly before he let Rachel up there. "Thirty seconds," he assured her. "Time me."

Garrett jogged to the second floor and Matt listened to make sure he wouldn't fall. The kid looked utterly panicked at his disappearing for even this long. Matt went to comfort her, passing Abby on the way. He tried to touch her shoulder and she backed away, flinching hard. She'd done that for awhile, while they were at Stick's camp. Both of them were still dealing with the fact that, while brainwashed, he'd nearly killed her. Abby tried to suppress her instinctive fear of him, but sometimes it didn't work. Matt had hidden his reaction then, disguising how much it stung. He'd understood why, but it had still hurt. It hurt then and it hurt now and he pretended it didn't as he sat next to Rachel, speaking in low, soothing tones.

That left Elektra and Abby. Abby, who still refused to be still and look at her. The teen had been in and out since Matt and Garrett returned. She couldn't stay away from Elektra for too long, but she couldn't _stay_ too long either.

"Abby," Elektra murmured, as gently as she'd ever said anything.

The teen flinched. Her shoulders were loose and her hands stayed in her pockets. She looked at Elektra's chin.

Elektra wanted to call her closer, wanted to grab her and hold on, but she didn't try. Abby was more skittish than Rachel at this point. Elektra would've preferred to do this alone, but knew already that Abby wouldn't be alone with her yet. Besides, Matt's presence made it easier, if only slightly. Now if she could just make herself talk.

"You mad?"

The inquiry was cool and flat and not at all what Elektra expected. "What?" she asked, brow knitting in confusion.

"You said run and don't look back if something happened. Number one rule, right? I broke the rule. You mad?"

Was she? Hell yes. Mad at Bullseye for bringing them here, mad at herself for being unable to stop what happened. "No," Elektra replied quickly. She must've been a bit too emphatic about it because the girl twitched minutely. "No," the older repeated, wishing there was something to say, wishing she knew what it was.

Rather than being relieved, Abby closed off more. Her posture was almost casual, until you took a second look. "So what are you then?" she questioned, sounding partly disappointed and partly annoyed that her mentor wasn't angry.

Elektra's frowned deepened. This was a test. Like when they first met and Abby challenged her and Abby lost. She'd cried then, on the verge of falling apart. And she'd looked to Elektra for comfort, for something that would make it bearable. Elektra hadn't known what to say then and she didn't know now. Distantly, she wondered if Abby's mother would've known what words to use. But if Abby's mother were alive, Abby wouldn't be standing here.

"Look at me," Elektra demanded softly. Abby didn't. She wanted to repeat the order, but knew it would do no good. "I'm proud. Okay? I'm so proud of you."

She'd never said that before, nothing even close to it. Too much of her father's influence. Now she waited, waited and hoped like hell that Abby got it.

The teen locked eyes with Elektra for the first time, her expression still blank. "He was going to kill us."

"I know that."

"No matter what he said, he was going to kill all of us."

Elektra saw Rachel's head turn towards them, heard Matt distracting her with something inconsequential. "I know that."

"And you're proud of me."

"Yes," Elektra stated, knowing already that she failed the test. That belief was confirmed when Abby spoke her next words.

"Don't be."

The girl turned on her heel, catching Garrett's eye as he returned downstairs. They shared a look and then Abby was outside again.

That exchange drained Elektra more than anything else. She slumped forward a little, and suddenly Matt was coming towards her again and she couldn't have that. She put her hand up uselessly and sucked in her breath and he stopped five steps short of her chair.

Garrett was leaning heavily on the counter, pretending not to witness the exchange. Elektra sensed Matt's turmoil, and wished she could explain. She understood that all he wanted was to be there for her, like he always tried to be. She understood his need to be with her, to assure himself of her presence. The thing of it was that there were too many people here. Too many people and too much happening and Elektra needed to breathe. She needed to breathe without crying and that wouldn't happen with Matt here.

"I'm going to talk to Abby," he announced quietly.

Elektra heard him retreating, wishing she could explain it. Explain that she wasn't brushing him off or playing tough this time and that she honestly wasn't trying to hurt him. There was a lump in her throat and he was out the door before she could say anything.

"Tell me again," Garrett requested once there was one less person there.

"Tell you what?" Elektra asked, more exhausted than she'd been in her entire life. "I told you everything."

"And I'm asking you to please tell me again," he replied, still behind the counter. "What happened at the end?"

"Abby had a gun on him."

"Yeah. And then what?"

Elektra looked at him strangely. They shouldn't be having this conversation in front of Rachel. Then again, at this point it hardly mattered. "He died. Again."

"But Abby didn't shoot him."

"I told you-"

"I'm asking you again," Garrett snapped.

"No, Abby didn't shoot him. I thought she would and I couldn't do anything about it because I could barely stay conscious. Is that what you needed to hear again?"

"She couldn't shoot him though. She actually said that."

"Yeah, she actually said that. She froze and he dropped. Are we done now?"

Garrett looked at his niece, an odd expression on his face. "You were lucky, Elektra. I mean all of you were so fucking lucky."

He was right, but Elektra didn't feel like he was right. Still, the facts were the facts. They'd been lucky that Bullseye had apparently been very, very sloppy today. He'd only given her a bit of that paralyzing agent, but he'd given himself more than enough of whatever drugs he was on, whatever drug he'd shot himself with right before Abby came in.

Glancing in the living room, Elektra saw that Rachel was very suddenly and very deeply asleep. At least one of them would get some rest tonight. "Do you think he was taking the same things you were?"

Garrett shrugged. "If he was the one who called the cops to my apartment, he probably searched the place before doing that. Stuff I take, you don't monitor the dosage, your heart will give. If he was in as much pain as he said, if he needed to be in shape to fight you, he probably wasn't monitoring the dosage."

Overdose. Bullseye, the source of so much misery and pain and hate died of an overdose, like the junkie he'd become after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s little science project. It was sickeningly anticlimactic. Abby had the gun, then Abby's expression had changed to something so loaded Elektra still couldn't describe it. Then those words.

"_I can't…"_

She'd sounded shocked and angry and so many other things, and Elektra had been confused because Bullseye was backing off and acting like he'd taken a slug to the chest. Then his nose and mouth had bled some more and he choked and he cursed and then he'd been gone. Elektra should've felt happy. He was dead (again), and she hadn't had to watch her sixteen-year-old protégé kill to save their lives. Elektra should've felt some measure of happiness, or at least a measure of victory. She didn't.

Garrett was still watching his sleeping niece, still with that odd look on his face. Elektra tracked his gaze. "What about you, Garrett?"

"I monitor my dosages," he replied.

"You get what you wanted?"

He finally looked at her again, lips turned down. "Huh?"

"The deposit box in New York," she replied flatly. "You get what your brother left?"

Oh. The briefcase, the reason he and Murdock hadn't been here when Bullseye was. "Yeah, got it." He'd gotten the case and he'd quickly _for_gotten about it as they gunned it back here. It was in the back of his truck, still unopened. Whatever was in that case didn't seem nearly as important as it had this morning.

* * *

The warm water helped soothe her aching body, but she didn't feel clean. Bullseye touching her had left Elektra feeling disgusting. The soap and water got rid of the blood and helped her muscles, but she still felt filthy.

She shouldn't have sent Matt away. He'd helped her to the tub and put fresh clothes on the lid of the toilet and then he'd stood there, waiting. When she'd offered nothing more than a whispered thank you, he'd told her to call when she needed him and then he was gone. She couldn't keep doing that, one day he'd get sick of it. But she'd needed time yet. And now she didn't need time, she needed him. He'd told her to call when she needed him and now Elektra couldn't even muster the energy to whisper Matt's name

A soft tap on the door brought Elektra out of her thoughts. Matt came in a moment later, quickly shutting the door behind him. His appearance made Elektra wonder if he had mind-reading abilities to go with the radar sense.

"Sorry," he said, hanging back near the sink. "You've been in here awhile.

"Don't be sorry." Her voice was rough and raw and she cleared her throat before continuing. "Did Abby say anything?"

"Not much. I think she's still coming down from…from all of it."

Nodding, Elektra stared at her good arm, which was resting on the lip of the tub. She blinked hard, trying to hold off the tears.

"You want me to leave?" Matt asked, obviously hesitant.

So much for mind-reading. Her head was an even bigger mess than usual tonight, so Elektra guessed she should be grateful.

"E?"

Elektra looked at Matt, then looked away. It would be easier if he did leave, in some ways at least. "No," she replied quietly. "No, I don't want you to leave."

Matt stayed where he was.

Elektra understood his worries. Abby wasn't the only one being skittish, the only one coming down from things. Bringing her eyes up, Elektra forced herself to speak. "I need a minute, just another minute or two. Can you…can you just sit here for a minute?"

Nodding, Matt moved across the small bathroom, past the hole by the mirror where he'd contemplated suicide a few nights earlier.

Moving her arm so he could sit on the tub's edge, Elektra kept her eyes glued to the water as Matt stroked through her damp locks. Sighing, she leaned her head against the porcelain. She'd had a migraine for hours, and not just because Bullseye had cracked her skull against the risers when he dragged her upstairs. Shivering in spite of the warm water, Elektra stayed quiet while Matt massaged her head and neck. Again, he managed the impossible by doing it without aggravating any injuries.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled after awhile. "About before. I wasn't…I couldn't."

"Shhh," Matt whispered, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. "Don't be sorry," he added, echoing her earlier words.

Elektra was glad he didn't apologize as well, apologize for not being here. She'd expected him to and she thanked whoever was listening that he hadn't, because she couldn't have taken his guilt tonight.

Elektra brought her face up, but not enough to meet his eyes. Matt stopped his ministrations, resting one hand on his knee and letting her grab the other one.

Staring at his shirt, Elektra played absently with Matt's fingers. Now that it'd been established, Elektra couldn't seem to break physical contact with him. They stayed that way for a long moment before she ended the silence. "Remember when you were a kid and you thought your parents could do anything?"

Matt frowned, knowing this couldn't lead anywhere good. He answered nonetheless, feeling no need to remind her that he'd never known his mother. "Yeah, I remember that."

"I can barely remember this, but I know there was some point before my mother died when I thought my parents were invincible. Even with all the work he put me through, even though I didn't understand his reasons, I idolized my father."

"I know the feeling."

"After my mother died, that feeling went away. My father couldn't save my mother, so he couldn't be perfect anymore." Pausing, Elektra tried collecting herself, tried making her voice normal. "Rachel looks at Garrett like that. In spite of everything, he walks in a room and she looks at him like everything's supposed to be okay now."

Nodding, Matt squeezed Elektra's hand supportively, careful not to hurt anything.

"Abby looked at me like that when we first met. All these people after her and nowhere to run and she looked at me like I was supposed to fix everything for her. I hated that, you know? That look, that responsibility. Then Mark died and it changed. It changed but it didn't go away like it had for me. Even with Mark gone, even after what happened last year, Abby would still look at me like I could fix everything, like I could always find a way to make anything better."

"You saved her life," Matt said quietly, stroking Elektra's bruised cheek with the hand she wasn't crushing. "You saved her life so many times; you took care of her so many times."

"Not this time," she argued. "Not today. Today I didn't save her from anything." Shaking her head, Elektra let out something that could've been a laugh and could've been a whimper. "She'd look at me like I could fix anything and I never stopped hating that look, wanting it to go away. It's gone now."

Elektra looked at him then, gaze moving from his shirt to his eyes. The tenderness there and the compassion and the love finally did her in. The next sound she made was definitely a whimper.

Wordlessly, Matt repositioned himself on the tub. His shirt got progressively wetter as he pulled her against him, rocking slowly and saying nothing while she cried into his shoulder.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be with Rachel?" Abby questioned, staring blankly into the night.

"Rachel's totally out," Garrett replied, standing behind her on the porch. "She's actually the reason I'm out here."

Abby said nothing.

Garrett checked through the window, assuring himself that his niece was still sleeping. Satisfied she'd be good for a few minutes, he leaned against the house and crossed his arms. "Thank you for keeping her safe."

"I didn't do anything." The teen replied flatly.

"She's safe, so you did something."

"All I did was keep her in the woods while stuff was happening."

"Which is something. A big something in fact, so thank you."

"Fine."

Fuck. It was like dealing with a younger version of Elektra. "Which gun did you take?" he questioned, careful not to sound accusatory.

It took a moment before she answered. "The one under the kitchen sink."

Garrett nodded, trying to read her face in the shadows. "You check it before you went up there?"

Abby said nothing.

"Few days ago, I cleared the ammo from all the guns except one," he stated, absently touching the revolver that was always on his waist. "Should've done it to begin with, for Rachel, but I didn't. Used to think it'd be easier in emergencies if I wasn't fumbling around looking for bullets. Then Murdock went a little nuts and almost shot himself, so I decided to take the chance."

Abby remained silent.

"So I see it two ways," Garrett continued, tone still carefully non-threatening. "Either you rushed upstairs to help E, and you assumed the gun was loaded because I usually kept them that way, or you saw that it wasn't loaded and you didn't have time to fuck around looking for ammo so you went upstairs and you tried faking him out."

Abby said nothing. Her expression gave nothing away.

"Either way was dangerous. But it doesn't matter. Whatever you're feeling, whatever you're doing to yourself, it's not worth it. He's dead now and he's not worth it."

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me about it?"

"I'm not, I'm just saying."

If she didn't want to say, then it really wasn't his business. It wasn't his business whether or not Abby knew that gun was empty. It wasn't his business if maybe E had been too dazed to hear the click of an empty chamber. "Look, its over and done with and it doesn't matter."

"Yeah," Abby said tonelessly, looking straight ahead as she reentered the house. "It doesn't matter."


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** Hey all. So this time around, you're going to get two sections of my incoherent ramblings instead of just one. Why? Because in addition to torturing Matt and Elektra, I get just the tiniest bit of enjoyment out of torturing you guys. Kidding, kidding. First off, thank you to everyone who left feedback last time. I had a few people mention that the chapter didn't go where they thought it would, and all I can say is…that's awesome. I am by no means a great writer, I don't have the talent of the people working on the Daredevil books, and I can't write action scenes to save my life. What I try to do, what fanfiction allows me to do, is take the characters places they couldn't go otherwise. If nothing else, I hope you guys have had some surprises on this ride of mine. Like I said, you'll see more of my rantings and ravings at the end, and I humbly beg that you read over them, because all the really important stuff comes later. Well, the _really _important stuff is the actual conclusion to the story so…never mind. See you in a bit.

Oh, one more thing. There is a huge, blatant reference to Jen Garner's performance in _13 Going on 30_. It's there because I found it mildly amusing, and because there was a huge, blatant reference to Ben Affleck and _Chasing Amy _in an earlier chapter. What can I say, I like things in pairs. Now read on!

* * *

Abby didn't speak much the rest of that night, or the next morning. Elektra dropped off in Matt's arms for a few hours, the physical and mental exhaustion proving to be too much. Garrett slept on the couch with Rachel, because his head hurt and his muscles ached and he didn't trust himself to carry her upstairs without tripping.

When the sun came up, Abby entered the kitchen to find Garrett preparing what amounted to a breakfast buffet. There were waffles and pancakes and eggs and bacon and French toast.

Closing the back door behind her, Abby surveyed the sheer amount of food, but said nothing. Garrett, haphazardly tossing used bowls in the sink, frowned as he turned to look at her. "Yesterday's clothes," he remarked, noting her lack of wardrobe change.

"You wore the same pair of jeans three days in row," the teen replied flatly.

"Washed them didn't I? Besides, they're nice, they make me feel special."

"Great," said Abby, keeping her voice low because Rachel was still asleep in the next room.

"Were you outside all night?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Are you turning into Matt?"

Making a face, Garrett took a carton from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet, then he took something else from the uppermost cabinet. Abby wasn't paying attention. She leaned against the kitchen table with the same blank look he'd seen last night, staring at some point in the middle distance.

"Drink," Garrett ordered, sliding a glass of bright orange liquid in front of her.

"Not thirsty."

"Drink anyway, you look like shit warmed over." She glared at him. Garrett considered it an improvement over the previous expression. "Drink," he repeated firmly.

Abby downed the whole glass, wanting him to shut up. Then her face turned an odd color and she began to choke. "What the hell?" she gasped between coughs.

Grimacing, Garrett began moving plates from the counter to the table. "Orange juice mixed with something extra. You weren't supposed to slam it."

"Thanks for warning me," was the dark reply. "What do I tell Matt when he smells booze on my breath?"

"The truth, blame it on me."

Matt and Elektra came down a few moments later, the blind man supporting most of Elektra's wait as he scolded her for attempting the stairs.

Garrett listened to them argue about Elektra's ability, or lack thereof to move around right now, watching Matt ease his lover into a chair. "You shouldn't be up," Garrett stated, depositing a stack of waffles in front of her/

Elektra ignored him, her whole attention focused on Abby. "Hey," she murmured.

Abby, who was still leaning on the table without sitting down, looked at something over her mentor's right shoulder. "You shouldn't be up," she said tonelessly.

"Abby," Matt began in the voice one would use while talking someone off of a very high ledge.

He had to have noticed the liquor, but he didn't comment. Abby wondered if he'd listened to her conversation with Garrett. She wondered if he'd listened to her conversation with Garrett last night. "Do we need to do this here, right now? Because I really don't want to do this right now, if you guys are cool with that."

No one answered. She'd come off sounding a little desperate, and Abby despised herself for that. Rachel began stirring in the next room, and Garrett went to her. Over Elektra's protests, Abby begged out of breakfast, despite not having eaten since the previous afternoon. The cabin felt too small, and Abby was gone from it before any of them could stop her.

* * *

The next few days were spent in a kind of limbo, much like the first few. Garrett kept preparing more food than four people could ever hope to eat. Abby skipped meals and, excluding some stilted interaction with Rachel, avoided everyone as much as possible. The forced bed rest made Elektra miserable, but not nearly as miserable as those trying to keep her in bed.

On the third day following Bullseye's death, when Garrett dropped a plate of pancakes topped with fruit and bacon in front of her, Elektra ran out of patience. At first, he'd been careful around her, trying not to say anything upsetting. However, because she was used to him saying things that were mildly upsetting, and because she hated being treated like fine china, she'd ordered him to cut it out. Then he'd arranged her pancakes to look like a smiley face.

"Is there a reason you keep making enough food for ten people?" Elektra snapped.

"I'm hung over," Garrett replied. "I get sick and the booze makes me feel better, then it makes me hung over."

When she wasn't stuck in her room with Matt as guard, Elektra had been watching Garrett. He was drinking more and throwing up. The nosebleeds he kept having reminded her too much of Bullseye, right before he died. All Garrett would say was what he'd already said, that he wasn't nearly as sick as Bullseye, that there was always another treatment, another drug, another procedure.

"You're not eating," Garrett observed.

"No, I'm not."

"Your wrist acting up, your shoulder?"

"They're fine," she bit out.

Remembering what she'd said, remembering that it freaked her out when he played nice, Garrett crossed his arms and smirked. "If your arm hurts, you can't feed yourself, I can help with that. You know, open the hangar so the plane can fly in. Used to do it with Rachel all the time."

Because the girl in question was sitting in the living room (she was still nervous about being away from her uncle), Elektra tamped down her automatic response. Tilting her head, she crooked a finger at Garrett.

Garrett, unnerved by the come hither gesture, walked over anyway, curiosity overriding caution. When he was close enough, Elektra stated in a low, quiet tone, that if he put his hand near her mouth, or any other part of her body, he would never see that hand again.

Garrett nodded. He'd used a piece of bacon as the mouth for her pancake, and he quickly grabbed it, turned it so the pancake face was frowning instead of smiling, and went over to his niece.

The kid hadn't been terribly communicative lately. Most of her time was spent watching TV with Garrett, reading a book with Garrett, or sitting at the kitchen table with Garrett. She didn't say much during any of these activities. As her uncle claimed an arm of the couch, Rachel offered a rare sentence. "This lady looks like you."

She was looking at Elektra when she said it, grabbing the brunette's attention.

"Agreed," said Garrett genuinely amused for the first time in days. "You've got a twin."

Leaning forward slightly, Elektra was able to get a decent view of the TV from her place in the kitchen. The woman on screen (Elektra reluctantly conceded there was a passing resemblance), was wearing an overly colorful dress and more makeup than Elektra bothered with. Her Hollywood counterpart seemed to be at a party of some sort. Elektra watched her twin approach the movie DJ before stepping onto the empty dance floor. At that point, Michael Jackson's _Thriller _began to play, and her doppelganger began dancing to the music. Soon enough, she had everyone in the room following suit.

Chewing on his lip to keep the laughter in, Garrett stood up, walking backwards so he could observe Elektra II performing Michael Jackson moves amidst a crowd of strangers. Making his way to the real thing, Garrett leaned in close, the same way she had with him, and spoke very quietly, the same way she had with him. "I know you're hurting, I know your knee's wrecked, but I'll give you eleven-hundred dollars if you do that," he pointed at the TV, "right now."

Elektra scowled, almost missing being confined to her room and having Garrett act like she'd break at any moment. "You don't have eleven-hundred dollars, Garrett."

"I'll give you my hand. You can chop it off like you've wanted to do for the last seven years."

Elektra continued to glare.

"Worth a shot," said Garrett. Getting serious again, he turned out his jeans pockets and came back with two handfuls of bills, which he dropped on the table in front of her. "Anyway, what do you know about my financial situation?"

Eyes widening, Elektra studied the crumpled wads of hundred-dollar bills he'd produced. "I thought your accounts were frozen."

"They are," he replied, taking a seat next to her and staying quiet so Rachel would stay engrossed in her movie. "That's from Jimmy. He left me more junk drives full of shit to sift through, documents giving me legal custody of Rachel, and more money than I made in the last six months."

Elektra was momentarily speechless. It wasn't that she'd completely forgotten about the case Garrett went to New York to receive, but she had _mostly _forgotten about it. It'd been a long week, even by her standards. "Anything else?"

Garrett shrugged. He meant it to be casual, but they both knew better. "Junk drive had a letter explaining what Target Man already said. Bullseye and the Hand got him in a corner, said things would go easier if he played Rachel those damn tapes that made her freeze up and made Murdock go nuts. Said I was sick, said they'd make me well again." Shaking his head, Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a migraine. "It doesn't jive."

"You said he was in a corner. If Roshi's men were threatening him-"

"Why bother? They could've killed him straight out."

"Would Rachel have cooperated if they had?"

"I don't…I don't know. If they were trying to turn her to their side without torturing her like they did with Murdock then okay, but…"

"But what?"

"Letter didn't say anything about the other files. The ones he had her listen to behind Bullseye's back, the ones she said kept her from going nuts."

There was that. The unknown voice on the other set of files that Rachel mentioned. Garrett never found those files on any of the drives he'd received from Chastity.

"Anyway, the letter makes it sound like Jimmy did all this less because he was forced into it and more because he wanted to save my life."

"That's strange to you?"

"Yeah," Garrett replied flatly. "That's strange to me. One, he shouldn't have cared enough to try saving me. Two, assuming he did, he wouldn't hurt Rachel for my sake."

"You said yourself you didn't really know him anymore."

"I didn't, but I knew enough. If you had to hurt Abby in order to help Murdock, would you?"

"No."

"No. Exactly. It wouldn't be a choice, and it shouldn't have been a choice for him."

Elektra said nothing. What was there to say?

Suddenly Garrett's expression changed and his hand moved from the bridge of his nose to his nostrils. Just like that he was bleeding again and he rushed upstairs to throw up.

* * *

Chastity called late that night. After assuring herself that he wasn't on his deathbed, she gave Garrett an update. The dirt she'd given to Ben Urich would hit the papers tomorrow. Fisk hadn't wanted it known that one of Hell's Kitchen's most prominent citizens, a blind man who'd done nothing but help the community, had been arrested for murder. A murder without motive, that Matt couldn't even commit, what with the whole blind thing. He'd managed to keep it out of the papers somehow, managed to avoid a public outcry. That wouldn't be the case anymore, not when the public discovered that every guy working the Murdock case had been bought off by a supposedly reformed Wilson Fisk. Amazing what people owned up to when you knew the right people and made the right threats.

As they'd already discussed, the tape showing Matt slitting Charles Mitchum's throat would be proven a fake. Whether it was or not hardly mattered. Strangely enough, Ethan Burke had walked into a New York police station, saying he'd gone into Rikers and taken Murdock hostage because the voices in his head told him to do that. Burke admitted to taking Matt somewhere (he couldn't remember where exactly because the voices wouldn't tell him), then beating the blind man several times a day for the last two weeks or so. He couldn't remember where he'd left Matt or what condition the attorney was in, and the detectives interviewing him never got that to change. During a break in the interrogation, chained to the table with cameras rolling, Burke escaped. A station full of cops and cameras and nobody knew where the crazy man ran off to.

"So with Murdock cleared and the task force investigating him in jail, Foggy will be cleared of those bogus perjury charges they tried sticking him with," Chastity explained. "Like Foggy would ever do something like that."

On a sleeping bag in his room, with Rachel crashed out in his bed, Garrett frowned, pressing the phone harder against his ear. There was a note of affection in Chastity's voice that disturbed him intensely. "You honestly like him don't you? Nelson."

"You told me to be nice to him."

"I didn't tell you to like him."

"He's sweet, honorable. I think being locked in this traumatic experience together caused us to bond."

"Traumatic experience," Garrett mimicked. "You sat in France and ate pastries while watching foreign porn films."

"Well, it was traumatic for Foggy."

"Only because you threatened to shoot him and pretended to have more than one personality."

"Well yeah. I did a lot of work for you John, I've got to have fun somehow."

"Fine, just don't try sleeping with him before he's back home."

"What do you mean try? If I wanted to sleep with him, I could sleep with him."

"Before or after you shot him with a tranq dart?"

"We bonded, he likes me now."

"Uh huh. Don't sleep with him."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you John."

"Jealousy. Yeah, that's what it is."

"I doubt Murdock and the ninja skank would care that much."

"For fuck's sake…how many times must I tell you to stop calling her that?"

"Uncle Garrett," said a small, groggy voice, "you said a bad word."

Rachel hadn't seemed to care all that much before. Garrett chalked it up to the fact that she was mostly asleep. "Sorry brat," he murmured, getting on his knees so he could touch her hair and kiss her cheek. In a second, she was out again and he lay back down.

"What's the matter with you, Uncle Garrett? No bad words."

"Don't do that."

"Is Rachel still there? Tell her Aunt Chastity says hi."

"No."

"Auntie Chastity?"

"No. No sleeping with Nelson either. I'm going to bed."

"John wait." There was no laughter in her voice anymore, no familiar flirtation. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Her seriousness made him uneasy. "What's up?"

"The gun Bullseye used on Elektra, you knew that was Jimmy's gun."

"Yeah, you told me." She'd told him that the doctor he usually got drugs from had been shot in the head. Then she'd told him that the gun used to shoot Elektra had come from Jimmy's collection. This had all been before Rachel told him about the men on the tapes and how they made her head hurt, and how Jimmy had told Bullseye that he, Garrett was going to die.

"I told you. So why was it easier for you to believe that Jimmy hired Bullseye to kill you, or that Jimmy tried killing you himself, than it was to believe that he knew you were sick? That he knew you and Bullseye had the same problem and he was trying to help in some weird, twisted way?"

"He knew I was sick, he should've told me that. He should've told me who the hell my niece was."

"John."

"What?"

"Why'd you think your brother was willing to kill you?"

Why indeed. Why hadn't he put it together, the Bullseye thing? Why hadn't he realized what was happening before the bastard showed up here, beat E to shit, and scarred Abby for life? He should've put it together. But he'd been so tired and so confused and it was harder to think without the pills and the injections. And with everything that had been going on, Bullseye had been a background problem. None of them had expected him here.

"John?"

"What?"

"Your brother. What was it between you that you thought Jimmy would have you killed?"

For a long moment, he said nothing. "Another time," Garrett whispered. "Another time maybe."

"Garrett-"

He hated it when she used his real name. "Another time, Chast. Not tonight."

Chastity didn't answer right away. "I've talked to some doctors about what happened with Bullseye, what's happening with you."

Garrett sighed into the phone. "You're too good to me, you know that? So I'm guessing by the tone and the awkward pause that you haven't scored a miracle cure on eBay?"

There was another awkward pause. "It's more advanced now, you know? It's more advanced and those treatments, they were always more like Band-Aids than permanent fixes-"

"Chast," he murmured. "It's okay. It is. It'll be fine."

"Garrett-"

"It'll be fine," he promised. "There's time to figure something out, okay? No worries."

"Okay," she replied quietly.

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow."

"You always say that."

"Yeah, but mostly I lie. Not lying this time. Love you."

"Do you?"

"Kind of, depends on the night. Call you tomorrow."

* * *

In the next room over, Elektra lay on her back next to Matt. No matter how she slept, her ribs or her shoulder or the bruises covering most of her body always hurt. Even if that wasn't the case, she wouldn't have been able to sleep.

"Abby will be okay," Matt stated, turning on his elbow to face her.

"I don't know anymore."

"I do. Give her time."

Time. So much had happened in so little time. She and Matt had reunited, she'd become responsible for Abby, then Matt had been gone. He'd been dead and he'd come back, but he'd still been gone, for a long time after that. Part of him still was, part of him died when he was locked in the Hand's dungeon.

After Matt 'died,' after he'd come back, Elektra had grown lazy. She despised herself for it, but she'd grown lazy. She'd been so caught up in grief that she hadn't noticed when Abby started drinking and skipping school and flunking class. She'd stopped practicing Kimagure, because no matter how she tried, Elektra couldn't seem to get her mind clear. Then, when Matt was there again, she'd been so focused on making him well, on trying to find the man she'd lost, that Elektra had practiced even less.

Closing her eyes, Elektra pictured the motel and the parking lot and the bullet ripping through her protégé. She shuddered and Matt rested his arm lightly across her middle, trying to protect without hurting her.

Elektra appreciated his nearness, but she couldn't vocalize that. She was too busy berating herself for getting lazy and screwing up. That's essentially what Ethan said when she asked him why she was seeing such vague, unformed visions, seeing the same thing again and again. With Kimagure, as with everything else, Elektra displayed enormous potential. When she'd resurrected Abby three years before, some of that potential had been unlocked. But, since she'd never finished her training, because she'd gotten lazy and hadn't truly practiced in a very long time, that potential was becoming a problem. Like Abby, Elektra had the ability to become a master. But Abby's visions were mostly out of her control. Now it seemed that Elektra was suffering the same problem. The muscle in her mind that controlled Kimagure was weak and unused. He'd compared to a cramp or a spasm, which hadn't made sense to Elektra. When she'd been using the visions to keep herself alive on a regular basis, she could only see a few days ahead. Now that she wasn't practicing, hadn't really _needed _to practice in such a long time, she was seeing things weeks ahead, things that hadn't happened. She'd accused Burke of making up these rules as he went along. He'd laughed at her.

Then came the most important question: What could she do about it? Could she do anything at all? Burke said he didn't know. Clearly she was seeing farther ahead than usual, and the farther you went, the more uncertain things became. If you saw something was going to happen minutes before it happened, that was pretty well set. Looking further ahead made things more subject to change.

Essentially, Abby might get shot to death, she might not.

Elektra had knocked Burke unconscious after he explained the ambiguity of it all. On the one hand, Abby wasn't marked for death. On the other, what good were the visions if she couldn't trust them, if what she saw was subject to change at any moment?

Matt was rubbing circles on her back, trying to ease the tension rolling off her. His next words made Elektra wonder again if he was hiding psychic talents. "E, don't do this to yourself. With or without Kimagure, no one really knows what'll happen."

"That's what worries me," Elektra mumbled.

He stopped rubbing her back, chin grazing her good shoulder as he spoke into her ear. "We're okay right now. We're okay, we're alive, and we have a chance to fix things. Whatever else comes, we'll have to deal with it."

Stifling a pained groan, Elektra twisted around to look at him. "What happens if we can't deal with it?"

She sounded weak and she knew it and she was almost beyond caring. Too much had happened in too short a time. Finding Matt, losing Matt, Fisk and Bullseye and Garrett and Rachel and Abby. Abby who'd been haunting her for weeks now, Abby who hadn't said more than twelve words to her in two days.

"We can. We've made it this far, it means we can deal with it."

Elektra kissed him then, long and slow and passionately. It wasn't because she wanted to start anything, wasn't because she necessarily believed what he was saying. He'd tried killing himself days earlier, tried leaving her. Something had broken then, some level of trust that would take time to fix. So no, she didn't kiss him because she believed him, though she certainly appreciated the words of comfort. Elektra wasn't sure _why _she kissed him, except that it made her feel the tiniest bit better. That, and it eased the bad taste in her mouth, the one that'd been there ever since she saw Abby holding a gun on Bullseye.

* * *

It hit the papers the next day. Ben Urich wrote an exceptional story, quickly picked up by the other news outlets, describing Wilson Fisk's activities. How he'd been lying, cheating, and killing. How the charitable foundation established after his pardon was merely a front for the same things he'd done before going to prison. How Matt Murdock had been working with Urich to get Fisk behind bars again, and how Fisk retaliated by railroading an innocent blind man. All of this was verified and proven, though Urich didn't name a source. Wilson Fisk had apparently disappeared from New York. He couldn't be reached for comment.

Elektra had no idea where Chastity McBryde got her information, nor did she particularly care. Setting aside the newspaper, Elektra leaned back against her pillows and sighed. This business about resting and letting herself heal was getting very old very fast.

There was the softest of knocks before the bedroom door swung open. Elektra sat up straighter as her protégé came in, bearing a plate and a glass of water.

"Made you a sandwich," said Abby. Without meeting her friend's eyes, the teen deposited the items on Elektra's nightstand. "Matt's playing with Rachel and Garrett refuses to come up here."

Understandable. Last time he tried bringing food to her, Elektra may have said some things that may have been slightly rude. "Thanks."

"I was going to make your favorite, but Garrett ate all the turkey."

"Garrett does that." He'd been eating a lot and drinking a lot and puking it all back up on a regular basis.

"Yeah." Meeting Elektra's gaze for all of two seconds, Abby made to leave the room.

"Abby," the older woman called. "Hold up a second."

Abby froze, her back to the older woman. "Did you need something else?"

"Yeah, I need you to hold up a second. Come here."

Abby turned around slowly, warily. "Why?"

Elektra closed her eyes for a moment. The girl was looking at her like she expected a blow. "I could use the company."

Stiffly, Abby moved towards the bed. She didn't sit until Elektra patted the space next to her., Abby perched on the edge of the bed, ready to bolt as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Elektra eyed her carefully. She'd expected a breakdown. Days ago. She'd expected the adrenaline to leave, then she'd expected Abby to break. Her own catharsis had already begun, with Matt in the bathroom while he held her and she poured out the emotions. As far as Elektra knew, Abby had done nothing like that. The teen barely slept, spending most of her time jogging around the property. She exercised until she couldn't anymore, but she stayed out of the gym area. The gym was where Bullseye died.

"You aren't eating. You should eat."

Elektra took one bite of the ham sandwich. She wasn't at all hungry. Everyone in the house had been fussing over her, but Abby was the worst. Worse even than Matt. The girl refused to be in Elektra's presence for long, never longer than a few minutes, but Abby took full advantage of that time to chide her mentor for not resting enough or not eating enough. Then she'd disappear again. This was the first time Elektra had been truly alone with the girl, and she suspected that Matt's preoccupation with Rachel wasn't coincidental.

"You haven't been eating either," Elektra pointed out. Abby was becoming visibly thinner. She worked out obsessively (that itself was relatively new, Abby's previous method of avoidance had been to stare at the TV for long periods of time), but she didn't eat enough to keep that up. When Elektra worked herself to exhaustion, she at least knew enough to get the necessary amount of calories.

"I eat," the teen argued. "Doesn't look that way because Garrett makes so much food."

Elektra set the plate aside. "Abby-"

"Can you not talk to me like you think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown? I'm fine."

"You aren't. You couldn't be."

"I'm not the one who got shot and beat to hell."

Elektra grimaced. She hated being hurt like this and Abby hated seeing her like this. "We need to talk about what happened."

"Why? Bullseye's dead. It's over and done with and it doesn't matter."

The former mercenary was losing patience. She'd heard that from Matt before. It didn't matter what the Hand did to him or what they made him do, he was fine now. She'd heard it from Matt, spent months getting him to act like a person again, watching him pull away from her and trying to pull him back. It had exhausted her beyond reason, and she refused to repeat the process with Abby.

"What if I need to talk about it?" She tried keeping the testiness from her voice, but didn't entirely succeed. "If I need to talk about it, for me, can we talk about it then?"

Abby studied the bedspread.

"He killed your father."

"And?"

"And he was here. And you're telling me that didn't affect you?"

"Clearly not as much as it affected you."

"And holding a gun on him, when you-"

"What, I what?" In a second, the teen went from unresponsive to angry, eyes flying to Elektra's. "I didn't do anything. I couldn't do anything, but he's dead anyway, so again, why does it matter?"

Not waiting for an answer, Abby got up to leave again. Elektra caught her wrist in a loose grip, thinking it would be enough. Abby resisted. Elektra tightened her hold.

"Lay off," Abby muttered brusquely. She looked mildly panicked.

"No." She'd done this once before, sort of. After Mark died and Abby refused to talk, Elektra had gone to her and physically sparred with her. She'd gotten hold of the girl's hands and hadn't let go until Abby got so pissed off that broke down in tears. The sparring was out of the question this time, but Elektra had no qualms about applying the same general principles.

The grip was tight, but Abby was stronger at the moment. If she wanted to, she could get out of her mentor's grasp. She started to tremble. "Would you stop?"

"No."

Abby snatched her hand back, ignoring the grimace that crossed Elektra's features. "I'm going downstairs." She didn't move.

"No, you aren't. Sit down."

"No."

"You're upset because you couldn't kill Bullseye."

"Whatever you say." Abby forced herself to be still again, to keep her voice neutral.

Elektra considered using her good arm to physically shake the teen. She rejected the idea. Abby hadn't let anyone touch her in days. "Fine, then, you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Anything. I don't care. Just talk." Elektra hadn't talked much after her mother died. She'd talked less after her father died. Then she'd died and returned and lost five years of her new life because she was stupid and scared and stubborn and angry.

Abby didn't comply right away. "Matt couldn't kill Fisk, right? The first time? Isn't that what Matt said?"

"Yeah. That's what Matt said."

"And then Fisk got out of jail and caused all these problems. Right?"

Elektra said nothing. She couldn't tell exactly what direction this was heading in, and that made her reluctant to respond. Also, now that Abby was talking, Elektra thought it best to keep it that way.

"So if it'd been you with Fisk seven years ago, would you have done what Matt did?"

No. She wouldn't have been strong enough. She would've killed Fisk in cold blood. Elektra didn't say this, allowing her silence to speak for her.

"You wouldn't have," Abby pressed, apparently needing confirmation.

"No." She would've killed the man who ordered her father dead. But Matt hadn't. Matt had been stronger than that. And so had Abby.

"_I can't…" she'd whispered, Garrett's gun inches from Bullseye's forehead._

"I'm glad you didn't do it. All right? I know you thought that's what you wanted, but killing him would've…changed you."

"Fucked me up, you mean."

Yeah, that's what she meant. "No."

"You don't think that's happened already? The last ten years of my life, and you don't think the ship's sailed on that one? So you're honestly proud of me for not pulling that trigger?"

"Yes."

"Would you be proud of me if he hadn't dropped dead? If he'd taken the gun from me and killed us and taken Rachel, you wouldn't have been proud of me then."

Elektra hated to fall back on Abby's excuse, but she'd never been especially good with comforting, maternal discussions. "The what if's don't matter. No matter what you think, it's not easy killing someone, even when they deserve it."

"Not easy. So how'd you make a living then?"

That one hurt. Elektra couldn't tell if Abby realized how much. Her lack of inflection made it hard to read emotion. If Abby _had _meant to wound her, Elektra told herself it was just a tactic, a way of ending the conversation. "The killing's easy," said Elektra, amending her previous statement. "It's afterwards that's hard."

"Not for you."

"Yeah. For me."

There was a monetary silence. "So you're proud of me for not killing him?"

How many times had they established this? "Yes."

"Then what would you be if I had killed him?"

Elektra couldn't answer. There was more to the question than there seemed to be, as if taking it at face value wouldn't have been enough. Elektra kept feeling as if she hadn't gotten the full story of what happened in that room. She'd been right there; she'd seen everything, but kept feeling like she _hadn't _seen everything. It was that feeling that made her hesitate now.

She shouldn't have hesitated. Abby was out the door and closing it behind her before Elektra could do or say anything.

* * *

Later, she asked Garrett what he knew. She'd seen the two of them exchange looks, secret glances that weren't supposed to be there. Elektra was extremely tired of secrets.

Garrett wouldn't say anything, except that it wasn't his business. Elektra threatened his life.

"It's not my business, E."

"Lots of things aren't your business, Garrett. Doesn't stop you from talking about them."

"Those things are different than this thing."

"Is this thing something I should know?"

"Not if Abby doesn't tell you. If she does then she does. Either way, leave me out of it."

He'd left her trapped upstairs, leaving to go through his brother's files. Two hours later, Elektra convinced Matt to help her into the living room. She was unnerved by what she heard down there and needed to investigate.

Garrett was at the kitchen table, wearing a pair of ear buds that attached to his laptop. He'd bought them three days prior so he could examine the files without risking Matt and Rachel hearing something they shouldn't. He was in front of the computer now with the earphones plugged in, and he was laughing. Hard. So much so that moisture was coming from his eyes and he sounded mildly insane. Matt grabbed his shoulder to get his attention.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Garrett muted the computer, staring at the couple with a dazed grin on his face. "You remember the other voice? The one Rachel was listening to without the Hand's permission?"

They remembered.

"I couldn't find those files on the first drive, the one I got in Boston. But this," he pointed to a USB drive protruding from one of the ports. "This was from New York." Garrett yanked out the headphones, pulled the chord, and turned on the sound for the file he was listening to. "Surprise, surprise."

It was Stick's voice. Speaking words they couldn't understand, just like the guy from the Hand. But it was Stick's voice. Garrett kept laughing, almost hysterically.

* * *

They talked a lot the next day, about a lot of things. Garrett's theory was that Stick faked his death, that he orchestrated the destruction of the Compound.

"It was a test. He disappeared so he could see how the organization fared without him. At the same time, he kept playing Roshi in that endless chess game for control of the Treasure. And when he comes out of the woodwork and sees his guys running around like headless chickens, the shit's going to hit the fan."

"If he knew Rachel was in danger, he would've taken her out of there."

Garrett had given her a funny look. "E, not trying to bring up stale crap, but he intentionally put Abby's life in danger so he could prove a point to you."

Garrett had a point. The adults argued back and forth about what it all meant. Garrett kept insisting that his brother was continuing to bullshit him, even from the grave. Matt pointed out that there was no telling when those files were created. Just because it was Stick's voice, didn't mean Stick was still around. Garrett hadn't gone for that.

"He's like Cher. Harder to kill than a super powered cockroach. Even if you want him gone, he never is."

They discussed future plans as well. Garrett had money now, and a list of Jimmy's real estate. He wanted to give Rachel a semblance of normality, but he also wanted to know what the fuck had been going on.

With the Kingpin running scared, there was nothing to do but go home and face the music. Matt and Elektra had no illusions of being able to step back into their lives as if nothing happened, but they couldn't hide here forever. Elektra in particular was exceedingly restless. Somehow, the men convinced her to give it a few more days. Chastity would have time to make sure her tracks were covered, that her bosses wouldn't arrest her the minute she hit American soil, than she could bring Foggy back to the States.

At some point, Matt left to check on Abby, leaving Garrett and Elektra to fight again. He still wouldn't tell her what he knew, that the gun had been empty, that Abby may have known this. She may have known this, or she may not have, she may have decided to spare Bullseye's life, spare herself the guilt of ending it. Or she may have fully intended to kill him, realizing too late that the gun was cleared. Garrett wouldn't tell Elektra this, so Elektra was unhappy with him. Garrett was feeling particularly shitty that day, and wasn't in the best of moods.

"You want to burn the house down?"

"When we leave? Yes."

"Okay then."

"There's blood all over everything. Evidence. My blood, Bullseye's."

"It's cleaned up."

"Not really, not well enough."

"So your solution is to burn the house down. Isn't that a tad excessive?"

"Excessive was you pumping three bullets into a corpse."

"Bullseye's corpse. _Bullseye's_. That was caution. You're talking paranoia."

"Too cautious is better than not cautious enough."

Garrett made a few snide remarks, but eventually he agreed. He didn't get why Elektra had to be so extreme about everything, but he didn't much care about the house either. He imagined he could smell Bullseye's stink in it, and he had no intentions of coming back.

* * *

The breakdown Elektra anticipated finally came. She'd been using a crutch to hobble to the bathroom when Matt stopped her in the bedroom doorway.

"I know," Elektra snapped. "Call if I need help. I don't need help." She was a little banged up, she wasn't an invalid.

Matt shook his head, talking in urgent tones. "Come here."

He helped her the few steps from their room to Abby's, but hung back after that. Abby didn't usually accept comfort from him. He wasn't part of the bond she and Elektra had formed.

With one hand on the crutch and one hand on the doorframe, Elektra surveyed the scene in front of her. It was only 9:00 at night, but the light switch for Abby's room was already turned off. Abby was curled into a fetal position on the bed, covered with every blanket in the house. She wasn't crying, but her breathing was rough and uneven. Matt made sure Elektra got to the bed okay, then disappeared.

Abby didn't seem aware of Elektra's presence, even when the mattress shifted under her added weight. Only when her mentor spoke her name did the teen seem to come back to herself.

With her back to Elektra and her chin near her chest. Abby tried desperately to still the tremors wracking her frame. She shook harder. Elektra placed a soft hand on her rigid muscles, and Abby let out a sob. "I can't stop shaking."

"I know," Elektra murmured, shifting so that she could hold the teen properly. It was awkward and painful due to her injuries, but Elektra barely noticed the discomfort.

"I can't get warm," Abby whimpered, an edge of panic in her voice.

"I know," Elektra repeated, tightening her hold and making soothing patterns on Abby's spine. There was no point telling her it was the shock setting in, a delayed reaction that would've come sooner or later, no matter how long she tried suppressing it.

"Elektra?" She was crying and trying not to. The panic in her voice was easier to hear.

"I'm right here," Elektra promised, echoing what Garrett said to Rachel at least twice a day. "We're okay," she promised, echoing Matt's words to her. "We're okay, we're alive. That's all that matters."

"I can't get warm," Abby repeated, not used to having her body out of her control.

Abby's breathing was too harsh, too ragged, too fast. "Abby, Abby slow down for a minute. Just relax. Just give yourself a minute."

"Elektra," she pleaded.

"I'm right here. Just relax for me, just for a minute. It'll be over in a minute, just hang in…"

It took longer than a minute. Elektra stayed there until Abby fell asleep. She must've drifted off herself, because when she opened her eyes, Matt was lifting her from the bed.

"Abby…" she murmured, only half-awake.

"Shhh," Matt whispered, kissing her forehead and brushing the hair from her eyes. "She's fine. Sleep."

Some part of her realized that Abby would be embarrassed by what happened, that that embarrassment wouldn't be helped if the teen woke up with her guardian in her bed. Sparing a glance through the dark to make sure Abby was indeed asleep, Elektra gave in to temptation and followed Matt's advice.

* * *

They burned the house two nights later. Garrett found gasoline and matches. He didn't tell Elektra where he planned to be after this and she didn't ask. Better if she didn't know. They had a bit of time before the firemen descended, and they all watched the flames, transfixed.

Matt stood next to Elektra, one arm keeping her steady on her feet. His blank eyes looked strange in the firelight. He seemed to be looking towards the woods, where they'd put Bullseye. Garrett had shot him three extra times after digging the grave. Then he'd filled it and spit on the ground. Blood had come from his mouth.

Abby was on Elektra's other side. She'd gone back to not talking much. Her expression was hard to read in the shadows cast by the flames.

Garrett was holding Rachel's hand. The child hadn't asked why they were committing arson. Rachel seemed to have learned not to ask too many questions. As Garrett liked to say, kids were adaptable.

Garrett himself looked a little pale, bathed in orange light. He'd had another nosebleed while he was spreading gas through the house. Elektra tried not to think of how much Bullseye bled right before he died.

Shaking her head, Abby broke away from the others, heading towards the vehicles parked nearby. "Let's get the hell out of here," she declared flatly.

* * *

Wilson Fisk boarded a private jet on a deserted air strip he'd acquired six months earlier. Phillips, his assistant, talked incessantly as Wilson sat in the nearest seat. He'd had them specially fitted to accommodate his size.

"Of course we have the lawyers working overtime, but there are a lot of charges, and given your previous record-"

"I understand," Fisk stated. Remaining in the country wasn't an option anymore. "Any leads on Maya?"

"I'm afraid not sir."

Despite the best efforts of his best people, there was nothing on Maya since that man took her from the hospital. The same man who'd helped Murdock escape, turned himself in, then escaped police custody. His identity was still uncertain, as was his motivation for kidnapping Maya. "Find some leads then."

"Of course sir. Forgive me, but you haven't told the pilot where to go, and we can't stay here much longer."

Fisk leaned back in his seat, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket. Lighting it, he addressed Phillips while staring out of the small window. "Japan. I haven't been there in awhile, but there are people who'll help us in Japan."

"Understood sir, I'll let the pilot know."

* * *

**(other) Author's Note: **So, a year and a bit and 200,000 words later, there you go. As I've said before, this thing exploded into its own little monster. I did some of what I wanted to do, then it kind of wrote itself after awhile. However, it wouldn't have continued to write itself if you guys hadn't been so incredibly patient and supportive and just downright awesome, so thank you. This was an interesting story for me on a couple of levels. One, it was the first time I really tried to inject some humor into things. I don't know how well that went over, but it was fun to do. Two, the whole plotline with Garrett. Man, Garrett was in here a heck of a lot more than he was originally supposed to be. Again, I don't know how I feel about that, nor do I know how you guys feel, but that's what reviews are for. When all's said and done, this is the most fun I've had writing a story, and the hardest I've ever worked on a story. I hope the effort shows.

So obviously the groundwork's there if you guys still care for a sequel. Like I said, there are plotlines that didn't get explored the way I wanted them to. And I realize that I left the characters in an ambiguous place. No happy family ending scenes like in the first two. Whether you want a continuation or not, I'd really appreciate some reviews. If you've been waiting to pass judgment 'til the very end, then judge and judge harshly! You guys know the drill, what you liked, what you hated, what you want more or less of if the series goes on. Some writers, better ones than me, are above begging for reviews. I am not, especially when it comes to the completion of a story.

Now you see why I split my ramblings into two parts? The ramblings are longer than the actual chapter. Seriously, this one meant a lot to me guys, and it means even more that you took time to read it. Whether this particular series goes on or not, I will most certainly keep writing for the fandom. Creature of habit and all that. See you guys next time.


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